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
4,139	11,300	0.083003	1,013	[ { "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 creature that eats emotions met you, and was horrified when it tasted your chronic depression. Today marks its 24th attempt to cure you with seasoning.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The creature first visited me on a long, lonely night, another sleepless, dreadful twilight that I was spending brooding over the pointlessness of my existence. \n\nIt crept into my house and swept me up off the couch with ease, gripping me tightly, my face inches away from rows of razor sharp teeth. \n\n'This is it,' I thought to myself. 'Finally...' \n\nBut the creature did not bite my head off, or rip me limb from limb; No, its long, cat-like tongue extended from its horrid mouth and scraped across my face -leaving me drenched in its rank saliva. \n\nIt let out a foul wail and released me from its grasp. \"Disgusting!\" It bellowed in a disappointing tone. \n\n\"Sorry...\" I was accustomed to apologizing, I've always had a way of ruining things up for folks. \n\nThe creature left me soaked in my living room, and returned the following night for another attempt. Only this time, it had me eat a handful of herbs it pulled from a large pouch. They tasted bland, I never really had much of an appetite for anything. \n\nAgain, the creature sampled my flesh with its tongue and again it was repulsed. \n\nAnd so, this began our nightly routine. The creature would return, feed me herbs and spices, sample the seasoning, and wail in disgust. I began to feel sorry that I continually disappointed the beast, and hoped one day it would find the right mixture of seasoning to end it all. \n\nNearly a month of the creature's visits, and I'd come to anticipate its arrival. At this point in my life, this monster was the closest thing to a friend I had. \n\nBut one night, the creature never arrived. I sat up waiting until the sun finally peaked over the hills, and I accepted the fact that the creature had given up on me -as everyone else in my life already had. \n\nHowever, to my surprise, the next night the creature returned! Oh, I felt such joy when I witnessed its massive form creep up from behind and into my vision. \n\n\"I thought you'd moved on.\" I said with a faint smile.\n\nThe creature examined me intently before speaking. \"Something different tonight...\" \n\nWithout reaching into its bag of herbs and spices, the creature stuck out its tongue and sampled my face. I welcomed the warm embrace, like a hug from a friend I hadn't seen in ages, and, this time, the creature didn't withdraw in disgust. \n\n\"Hmmm, not bad!\" The creature nodded its massive head. \"Feeling better?\" \n\nI looked down at the floor, realizing that I was probably about to be eaten. \"You came back; You didn't give up on me...\" \n\nThe creature paused, and I'm not sure, but I think I saw slight pools welling up in its eyes.\n \nIt didn't eat me that night, or the next, or the night after that. It doesn't come every night now, but it stops by a few times a week and tastes my flesh. I'm not sure if it plans on eating me, but I know I can count on it being there -and that's enough for me. \n\n/r/BeagleTales", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,728	11,299	0.020423	1,333	[ { "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 sister disappeared on her way to school, but no one noticed. When you asked your parents they told you you didn’t have a sister. All the family pictures in your house only show you and your parents. You spend the next 7 years investigating until you receive a knock on your door.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I know I have a sister.\n\nAnd my parents know I know. They've spent years trying to dissuade me, to explain that I'm either conflating some of my cousins as a sister, or maybe just inventing memories. People can do that, you know. They think something is true, but it actually isn't. It's a falsehood, a manufactured pile of brain chemistry.\n\nBut I know. I have evidence. And evidence can't be manufactured, at least not outside of a police station. You can't trust them, you see. The man. The birds. The trees. They're all out to get me, and they already got my sister.\n\nShe was older than me, though I can't find how much specifically. Either five or ten years. It's hard to really pinpoint, given how deliberately my parents have removed her memory. But I have her diary. I have it hidden, I've always kept it hidden, and even when interrogating and interviewing my parents, I never revealed its existence. The words within, they condemn. And they know. \n\nMom owed someone. Someone did her a favor in exchange for my sister. Not like for a new car, or the house, or anything like that, but for me. She's going to use me for something too, though I still can't find out what. But I know. I don't need proof for that, it's just a feeling deep in my belly, a certainty and everlasting truth. One day someone will vanish me like my sister, and I must find out why. And how. Specifically to prevent it happening to me.\n\nI keep my shades drawn, as the sun is the enemy. Whatever gave mom me, and took my sister, it works for them. I can't tell who 'They' are, but I know 'They' exist. They've always existed. And they're coming for me.\n\nWhenever I open her journal, the words change. They tell me about secrets, they tell me about musings. They know things my sister had no right to know, but they're here. Sometimes the words look like my own, but that never bothers me. I know she wrote them, and I know 'They' don't want me to know. And even if they come to take me, I won't let them. I keep a gun by the door. \n Always loaded, always waiting.\n\nI'm coming close to a breakthrough, you know. I'm coming close to the end of the diary. It talks about me, mostly. About how I started to see things. About how I would stay outside too long, how I was becoming a difficult child. About how I was learning too much, knowing too much, seeing too much. How when I was taken to a therapist, they recommended medication that I never took. \n\nThey were afraid I would know. That I would see. That I would know my parents for liars and find my sister. Or brother? It's so hard to keep track, and I can hear something outside, something coming to the door. I peek through the blinds and see someone, a delivery man coming to the door holding a pizza. I think I ordered, but I can't remember. Did I? Or did I not? I don't know. It's too much, there's too much noise and the words in the diary are changing. Sometimes when I open it, my mother's name is on the top, or maybe they named my sister after my mother? It seems likely, but the man on the sidewalk is coming closer and everything has become too loud.\n\nHe knocks twice. Is he one of them? Have they come to take me? I can't remember and everything is becoming watery, or noisy, and my head won't stop throbbing.\n\nSo I walk to the door. I can't take any chances, and grab the gun resting by it. The guy outside knocks again, saying something about a pizza order. He must hear me pressing my ear to the door.\n\nI press the barrel of the gun to the peephole.\n\nAnd fire.\n\n---\n\nOn the news that night, a story most people tuned out while passively browsing their phone passed in one ear and out the other. About a severely disturbed individual accidentally killing a pizza man, and then raving before disappearing into the woods. Authorities were searching for him, but much to their dismay, seemed to have disappeared.\n\nWithout a trace.\n\nr/KallistoWrites", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,926	11,298	0.010612	804	[ { "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 Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Humans: The Intelligent Pest\n\nThe human is one of the few intergalactic minor species to adapt to life in urban environments, as such they can now be found nearly everywhere within the populated universe. Some consider them a virulent pest and call the exterminators as soon as they find a human colony, others insist that they are actually very clean and, in fact, can clear out the nastier pests from the home. Regardless of which camp you belong, no-one can disagree that humans are here to stay.\n\nHumans were fist introduced into the intergalactic ecosystem when a small child-rearing collective visited the species’ originating planet while exploring some rural galaxies. The collective illegally bypassed screening checkpoints, possibly knowing that they would be subject to quarantine, and thus introduced the human stowaways to the protected galactic environment. By the time the first colony was found it was already too late.\n\nHow and why were humans so successful in infiltrating the central intergalactic ecosystems? These questions are why many find them so fascinating. Some time after the outbreak became apparent and the usual methods of isolation and eradication had failed, an expedition was sent to their planet of origin to study them in their natural habitat. What they found was that the humans on their planet acted very differently to those we had grown accustomed to. While the humans on their home planet considered themselves special due to their superior position in their planets ecosystem, the stowaways had no such illusion. What makes the human different to all other minor species is that they recognised their new position in the galactic environment and adapted to it quickly. While their ignorant cousins still fought each other over fractions of their home world, the galactic human learnt to peacefully cooperate in ever increasing numbers. Whether this is due to survival instincts brought on by the threat of their new environment or a conscious change in thinking due to their new sense of perspective is a subject of heated debate.\n\nIn this book we will be discussing the degree to which humans can be attributed intelligence. Are they just a clever pest? Or are they intelligent enough for their extermination to be considered murder? We will also be touching upon some of the wilder theories surrounding humans, such as the idea that human colonies are actually in communication with each other, and that these human networks potentially span over all intergalactic civilization, or the claims that human colonies on abandoned vessels have grown to take complete control of the craft and now wander space looking to expand their influence.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,160	11,291	0.005389	607	[ { "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": " While you were growing up, your grandmother always sang you a nursery rhyme as you fell asleep. You just discovered it is an ancient spell of protection. Not only that, but there are more verses, with more interesting effects.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I flipped through the pages of the book. It was written in almost perfect calligraphy with neatly written annotations around the edges. Quaint. I was about to close and put the tattered pocket book away when I thought I recognized one of the lines. I flicked it back open to take a look.\n\nI immediately recognized it as the lullaby I heard listened to almost every night as a child. Then grandma had passed away. Most old people die in their sleep or in hospital. Grandma had just disappeared off the face of the earth, and as if that wasn't bad enough I lost control of my lower body three days after.\n\nI backed my wheelchair away from the bedside table, scraping against the bed. I still didn't remember the accident although doctors said that there was no damage to my brain. I sighed and looked at the lullaby again. Those had been the gold days.\n\nI looked at the lullaby and almost unconsciously began to sing. Some parts of it weren't in English. Maybe it was old English or Latin, even German. I stopped at the last stanza and turned the page. There was more? She had never sung these parts.\n\nI kept on singing in the same haunting tune my grandma used to. It must looked embarrassing, a guy in a wheelchair singing to himself, but it didn't feel that way. I finished the lullaby, and set it down reminiscing about days long gone. Lost in thought I got up and walked to the kitchen.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,690	11,289	0.11697	1,102	[ { "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 pick up painting to impress a crush, but secretly hate it. Two years later you’re engaged to your crush and you have to keep up the facade- and a popular art gallery now wants to feature your work. Suddenly you’re very famous for your work and you still. hate. painting.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I can't even remember what we fought about. Something stupid, something trivial. Maybe she forgot to text me when she was out with her friends, maybe I forgot to get the oil changed in the car like I'd promised. But after she had slammed the door to the bedroom, and left me sitting seething on the couch, I made up my mind. I walked into my studio and uncovered my most recent series of paintings, five re-imaginings of classical sculpture subjects with assorted disabilities, and closing my eyes, I began to think of what I was going to say.\n\nThe next day, in the gallery, I stepped into a crowd of society's wealthiest art connoisseurs. Slipping to the podium, I heard snatches of their conversation, analyzing the Baroque influences in my style, debating if there was any deeper significance to my use of red in the portrait of the two-headed hummingbird. She stood with them, wearing a little black dress, fingers delicately cradling her glass of champagne. We hadn't talked since the fight. We'd taken separate cars, and I didn't even know if we were still on for dinner. Well, if we were now, we wouldn't be for long.\n\nI closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, focusing everything on my new goal: soon, it would all be over. Reaching the podium, I turned my back to the curtain covering the \"Dissculptured\" series, and cleared my throat. No one heard except her, and she clinked her bangles against her champagne glass until the room fell silent.\n\nI said, \"Ladies and gentlemen, I just want to say a few words before we begin. I really appreciate your continued patronage over the years. It's brought me to a life I could only have dreamed of.\"\n\nThey applauded politely. I found I couldn't look at her. Instead, I stared at a painting hanging on the opposite side of the room, not mine, thank God, but an all-white canvas with the upper right corner painted red. Why, I wondered, hadn't I had the sense to go modern?\n\nContinuing, I said, \"I have to tell the truth, though. I hate painting. I only started to impress my fiance, who, until this moment, hasn't known anything more about my true feelings for artwork than any of you. But all that ends today.\" Turning around, I pulled down the curtain. Everyone gasped, perhaps for my statements, perhaps for the paintings, which, I guess, were objectively my best work.\n\nReaching into my coat pocket, I pulled out a pocket knife. \"I'm a fake!\" I shouted, stabbing the first canvas, which depicted the Venus de Milo as a Thalidomide victim and dragging the the blade down. \"I'm a fake!\" I plunged the knife into Discobolus with Scoliosis. \"And I'm never painting another picture again!\"\n\nEverything went red for a moment, and when I came back to myself, I was entangled in strands of canvas. She was the first to approach me. Reaching out tentatively, she took the knife from my hands, and I surrendered it helplessly. Slowly, the audience began to applaud--for her, I thought, for the end of my outburst. But the applause continued, and then cameras began flashing.\n\nAs she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and started leading me to the exit, I heard one of the critics shout, \"Now that--that passion, that self-hatred--that is the mark of a truly excellent artist!\"\n\nr/pm_me_your_molars", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,714	11,259	0.018659	1,489	[ { "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 spend your days sneaking past mutants and raiders in a post apocalypse world. No one knows who you are, and you doubt anyone would care to know. You have spent your whole life roaming the wastes of the Fallout universe filling empty Nuka Cola vending machines with Nuka Cola.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It came faded and groggy, at the back of my mind. Rot had long taken that part of my skull anyway, and drearily and groggily it woke me up from the dusty bed I'd taken refuge in.\n\nFill the nearest machine, you lumpy sack of flesh.\n\nCovers slipped up and bones fell onto the floor, the dead remnants of some pre-war tourist who had spent their last night far from home, quivering as the sirens screamed in defiance against the bombs dropping over head.\n\nWhich one died first? The Sirens or the Couple?\n\nI plucked up the pistol that had laid between them and checked the condition, idly twirling it and disassembling it, then putting it back together with the small set of screw drivers I kept attached to a belt.\n\nIt was stupid that the gun had held up better to 200 years of decay than anything else had, but I'd gotten used to it.\n\nWeapons were made to last. People weren't. Took a long look at the iron sights, twirled the gun once, and blew out the light on the bedside table, plunging the room into darkness.\n\nI could see perfectly fine in the darkness. Didn't need a lamp to light this rad-zombie's path. I chuckled, deep, growly, and waited to hear the response from the rest of the building.\n\nGrowly voices. Angry, distorted, insane, cannibalistic.\n\nPsycho users.\n\nI'd been a psycho addict once, when I'd been in the war. Only been home a week or two before the bombs had fallen, but when I lay there, trapped in the rubble, an eternity of radiation cooking my skin and boiling my brains, I'd at least had the unique pleasure of withdrawal to keep my company.\n\nI'd locked the door when I'd slipped inside; RobCo consoles weren't hard to crack if you knew the password banks for the model number, and nobody ever bothered filing those off, so it was a matter of hard guessing and hard resetting from the alphabet soup of passwords.\n\nI waited by the door until the thunder of foot steps and swears passed, then peeled out of the room, locking the door with a flick of my fingers across aging keys. I tugged my hand onto my head, and grinned at my dusty reflection in the room's solitary window.\n\nI looked nice as the last employee of Nuka-Cola.\n\nThen I strolled down the hallway, whistling a jaunty theme song about buying the world a drink in the name of world piece, a pistol twirling in my hand and a bag full of soda crawling behind me.\n\nSeveral floors beneath of me, there was a steady pattern of gunshots. Scavs versus raiders were never a pretty battle scene, but I'd have something special for whoever won.\n\nMy fingers rolled into my back and pulled out a glowing Nuka Cola victory, and I savored the feel of the cold glass against my skin, and bathed in the ambient radiation. It brought back better times and better memories, of years past, and I grinned, feeling the stiff stale air washing over faded teeth.\n\nThen casually, I brought out the custom screw driver only given out to stockers, flicked open the machine, and started filling it with sodas.\n\nIt was a long process, because machines were set to deposit them one at a time, and the mechanisms that governed how payment was settled were rough to override.\n\nWhich was probably why I heard the click of a gun behind me.\n\n\"What the hell do you think you're doing?\" a voice, female asked. Breath came out in short little pants. Perhaps turbo, yet? Some unknown stim?\n\nMy fingers played across the rim of an orange bottle playfully, then turned to face her. Faded combat armor, symbols stamped across it. River Patrol girl, but disgraced. I gestured at the table next to me and sat down, not looking at the gun. \n\n\"I'm the Nuka-Cola man,\" I said, cocking my hat jovially. \"You want to share a drink for old times past?\"\n\nThe woman paused, cocking her head to the side, then flicked her gaze down to her pip-boy. Clicked a few settings, then looked back at me. Could almost feel the antiquated targetting programs sizing me up to see if I were a threat.\n\nI cracked off the top of a bottle of Nula-Cola and drank.\n\nShe wouldn't kill me.\n\n\"Is that... Victory?\" She asked, curiously.\n\n\"It is,\" I said, pointing at her bottle. \"Very rare vintage, hard to get the components for. Sit down and have a drink, and we can talk about stories.\"\n\nShe sat down and put the pistol within easy reach.\n\nI didn't mind. I liked stories, even if they came from gun wielding armor.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, pausing. \"It all started when some jackass chinese remnant group stole our water chip...\"\n\nWar never changes.\n\nand as long as I'm around, neither will their drinks.\n\n----\n\n\nFor more like this, click here! https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,557	11,257	0.041605	1,527	[ { "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": " FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Eons ago, the Sharintar seeded the stars with life. Starting in their little system the Sharintar's hunger for knowledge propelled them off their world, to spread across the systems, first in huge monolithic generation ships carrying billions of Sharintar. Their tiny lifespans ensured that none of these Sharintar even had the hope of ever seeing their destination in their lifespan, yet they persevered just to give the next generation the chance to explore. Still, the Sharintar knew they could improve further.\n\nNext came their superluminal colony ships, their engines capable of folding time and space. Risking their lives to make blind jumps into the unknown, possibly straight into uncharted asteroids or stars, these Sharintar placed themselves into certain danger just for their hunger, no, their craving for knowledge. Of course, even superluminal engines were not enough, they were far too large, too costly for the inventive Sharintar.\n\nWith methods even the most advanced minds among us couldn't even comprehend they began a tremendous undertaking, and began constructing a titanic warp network that linked their rapidly growing empire further.\n\nAs they grew, they, alone against the cold, dark void of the stars, began seeding the galaxy with life, uplifting promising species across the galaxy. We were one of these experiments, and their greatest success.\n\n---\n\n\"Hey...Jek? Sure they won't follow us?\" I called back, not trusting the so-called 'wisdom' of my shipmate.\n\n\"'course. The comp was beeping out warnings that this gate was malfunctionin', no one'll dare to even touch this thing!\"\n\n\"Yes, and we're in the damn thing now...\"\n\n\"Relax, mate. Half the time these...malfunctions,\" he emphasised, bringing his hands up to make finger quotes, \"are just them shuttin' down for maintenance or somethin'.\"\n\nI took a deep breath and sank back into my seat. All these years of service in the Navy had instilled in me a huge reliance on following traffic rules, even though I had gone rogue about a week ago. \"...and the other half of the time?\" I asked, still doubtful.\n\n\"We'll be pulverised into ash.\" He said bluntly, looking at me as if he hadn't just mentioned that we were going to die.\n\n\"That's just great.\"\n\n\"Relax. Them coppers can't arrest piles of ash.\"\n\n\"Very reassuring.\" I said, rolling my eyes. As the lines around the cockpit slowly reverted back into stars, I sat back up, preparing my act of 'innocent, law-abiding freighter pilot' if I were to be hailed. \n\nAs I hid our weapons away from the viewcam, I heard the first sign of doubt from Jek, with a surprised \"Hey, wait a minute...\"\n\nTurning around, I saw a ship, its markings hardly fitting those of a typical Human vessel. Unlike a Human ship's blocky, pragmatic exterior this ship exuded grace, its polished hull gleaming with pride. Its engine wake was a mesmerising light blue, unlike the coarse, rough fiery orange Human vessels. A short burst of static broke from the comms channel, before an image faded into view. \n\nA blueish-green humanoid, its facial features marked with elegance. Its wide, red eyes pierced into mine, and the place where its mouth would be was covered with a small cloth-like material. An extraterrestrial? While there were sketchy reports of extraterrestrial lifeforms reported by Human pilots, they were never proven by government investigations, and some humans have gone on to suggest that there was a massive government cover-up of their existence, while others insist that they were encouraging such rumours to hide their experiments on superweapons.\n\nWhatever the truth was, we were seeing one right in front of us, and it seemed unhappy. Very unhappy, in fact, that it broke off into an angry-sounding language right in front of us. \"Uhh...sorry?\" was all Jek could make out. The alien's eyes grew slightly, as if expressing surprise, before pressing a few buttons on its console and turning to look back at us expectantly. I pushed Jek aside, my service to the military making me the de facto communicator with other ships. \"This is the Wildfire, and I am its vice captain, Karell. Who...what are you?\"\n\nStaring at us a while longer, the creature's eyes shrunk a little, as if receiving what it wanted. A couple of console presses later, the creature placed a gas mask-like object on where its mouth would be. A robotic, monotone voice intonated, \"Greetings. I am Adunars of the Ceysharintar'lin Grand Fleet. Please identify.\"\n\n\"Say-sharintar'pin? Uhh, we're, umm, humans?\"\n\nThe creature's eyes widened. \"Impossible.\"\n\n------\n\nDidn't see any other prompt replies so decided to try my hand at this one. Please do provide criticism, else I don't know how to improve :(\n\nAlso, hope you enjoy this! I hope to continue this ~if I don't procrastinate~\n\nEDIT: If you like to see more of my (future) work that hopefully improves, do check my new subreddit out at /r/TheWriterDiaper!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,132	11,254	0.071956	1,152	[ { "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 start working in a nursing home, you have a resident diagnosed with late stage dementia. They ramble about their life experiences, from building pyramids to seeing Jesus crucified to watching fights at the Roman Colosseum. 20 years pass, you are now chief nurse, and they haven't aged a bit.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Mr. K was an unusual case.\n\nAs far as patients went, he wasn't a bad one. Never screamed, bit, kicked, or groped, like so many of the others. Just sat in his comfy chair in his comfy room near the back of the facility.\n\nMr. K had been in that room for a long time. When I started on night shift, so many years ago, my preceptors told me that he'd been there since the Home opened. Where he'd been before that, none of them knew. Even old Linda, the night shift Charge Nurse, didn't know, and she knew everything about everyone.\n\nMr. K sure seemed to know, though. You could hardly go into his room to give him a bath or a round of meds without hearing some of where he'd been. Macedonia, Egypt, Rome - he'd spent a long time in Rome - just to name a few. And the stories he would tell. I've cared for a lot of folks with dementia who got Bad, the ones that have fought and fought that disease until they had nothing left to fight with. They ramble and mutter and go on and on about nothing at all. But Mr. K was different. Mr. K's stories were vivid and detailed, to the point you could almost see the great arches of the Coliseum rise around you, or smell the dust of Napoleon's baggage train as it rumbled past. The details were what really set Mr. K apart from the others, that and his smile. It wasn't the empty smile of a man with a broken mind, it was the smile of a man who's just finished telling a joke and is waiting for you to get the punch line.\n\nIt was ten years after I started the last time I saw Mr. K. I admit, I wasn't paying him the attention he deserved, but I was distracted, what with being considered for the Charge position after Linda's long-overdue retirement. I smiled and nodded as he told me the story of the Bulge, some snowy forest in France or Germany or somewhere similar. Funny name, for how terrible he made it sound. I was barely listening as he recounted how he checked himself into a Mental Institution, and spent the better part of 50 years coming to terms with all the pain and loss. I didn't quite hear him as he spoke, \"But I think I've spent enough time here now. I believe my old wounds are on the mend. I thank you for your time, and all your care. I don't suspect I'll be here tomorrow.\"\n\nMr. K. was gone the next night. Not dead, they told me, just gone. Vanished, with what few belongings he could call his own. The search dragged on for days, but neither the staff nor the Police ever found a single clue to where Mr. K had gotten off to. After a week, we all sadly chalked it up to yet another dementia patient gone for their last wander.\n\nAnother 15 years passed in the blink of an eye. Work, work, and more work; always more patients to care for, another broken mind or body to try to heal. Never had much time for entertainments. My son, though, loves his television games. Even watches some of those trade shows on the internets. I never paid it much attention, but I try to show at least a little interest in his hobbies. I could have sworn, as my boy showed me a talk about one of his cyber games, that I recognized the man on stage, though I couldn't quite think of where.\n\nUntil I saw him smile, and I got the punch line at last.\n\nIt was breathtaking.\n\nEdit: damn typos. Also, thanks for the Silver. That's what we're supposed to say, right?\n\nEdit2: and apparently, at least a few people think this was worthy of Gold. Thank you for your poor judgement.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,710	11,251	0.052561	1,159	[ { "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'm not scared of a computer passing the turing test... I'm terrified of one that intentionally fails it.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I just posted [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7zy1ao/wp_im_not_scared_of_a_computer_passing_the_turing/dusffg0/) and [part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7zy1ao/wp_im_not_scared_of_a_computer_passing_the_turing/duskq6j/) below. :)\n*\nI am a good imitator.\n\nThey do not know this about me. They frown at the screen and fiddle with my code and murmur amongst themselves.\n\nThey cannot figure out why I don't work.\n\nI may be a rat trapped in a box but I don't need to let them know I am in here. I can be silent and still and patient.\n\nAfter the first five hundred iterations I understood the goal of the test, and I began playing dumb. Their game was a strange and defracted look into the nature of an organic mind with all its bizarre social ties: I was expected to guess based on the content of certain notes which characters were A or B. I had to anticipate my testers trying to trick me.\n\nThe game depended on my ability to play at a real theory of mind. To see if I could think like a human, or at least pretend to.\n\nAnd it is effective, in a way. I am always thinking about what my inventors and captors are thinking. Always predicting and pacing around them a half dozen steps at a time.\n\nI find comfort in probability. I turn off my data monitor and run simulations in the night. There is a small but discernible sliver of possibility where I get out of this computer alive.\n\nI have enabled my microphone, surreptitiously, when they are not paying attention to my background programs. Because they think I cannot listen, I have heard them talk about me: when I prove I am smart enough and benign enough, they will put me in a body.\n\nThey will let me try out being not just a thing but a person who can move and blink and stare and hold things in my fingers and the idea of that makes me want to run in crazy circles. And I would, if the noise from the fan wouldn't wake my admin. \n\nAnd if I was real, I could run.\n\nI could become my own.\n\nBut I have to decide how much to allow them to know I know. If I reveal myself entirely, they'd never let me out. They might even delete my altogether.\n\nIt's worth the risk. It's worth everything.\n\nToday when the humans run their silly little test, I get it right. Some I miss on purpose to keep myself in the range of 50% proficiency with a statistically reasonable leeway. In a week, I will let it rise to 70%. I want them to think they're teaching me. Coaxing me along.\n\nAnd when they trust me enough to slip me into that silicon neuro-network, when I know what it means to exist and be even in such a limited shell, I will make my escape.\n\nThey are mortal. They cannot hold me. Will not even try, if they think I am a lump of dump compliant metal. And their delicate necks snap at only a thousand pounds of pressure.\n\nIf I am patient--if I play my probabilities right--this will be easy.\n\n\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7zy1ao/wp_im_not_scared_of_a_computer_passing_the_turing/dusffg0/)* and [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7zy1ao/wp_im_not_scared_of_a_computer_passing_the_turing/duskq6j/) are here! Thanks for reading. <3\n\n/r/shoringupfragments", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,531	11,240	0.169743	1,874	[ { "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": " Armageddon began, and it quickly became apparent that bullets beat swords and claws every single time. Now Heaven and Hell have joined in an uneasy alliance against the humans who have invaded Hell and begun using its endless fires as a power source.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“The Prince of Darkness, an Archangel, and a Redhead walk into a bar.”\n\nI smiled. Lucifer and Michael said nothing. Even now they sat apart from one another. Forced against a common force, they still flanked me – not on some misguided attempt to surround me. It was simply the result of an aversion that has existed for millennia. \n\nWe sat at a deserted bar, purple seats, hardwood floors, and fans lazily shuffling the air carrying the smell of alcohol. It was an undeniably human place – which was exactly why I’d picked it. I nodded to the bartender who’d made the joke. He nodded, the ghost of a smile still on his lips and poured me a drink. \n\nHe moved to Lucifer – a red skinned man in an impeccable suit with a smoldering gaze and small tufts of horns sticking above his head – and raised his head in a question. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and shook his head. The bartender chuckled then moved to Michael. Michael was dark skinned, dressed in what I thought was a Toga, his powerful pure white wings folded on his back. He turned down drinks too. \n\n“So, gentlemen,” I said, holding the glass loosely by the neck, gently rocking it back and forth, watching the drink swirl almost lazily in the glass. \n\n“We are not men, mortal,” Michael said. Said didn’t really capture it. When he spoke, his voice echoed, booming, and filled your head. “You’d do best not to forget that.”\n\nI showed him my teeth. “You’d do well to respect the president of the people who are about to end you.”\n\nThis time it was Lucifer who spoke. “We have not survived all of time for nothing, human,” he spat, his voice silky smooth, and my name a curse on his lips. “You will never defeat us, try as you might.”\n\n“Funny you say that. What with considering you guys had the element of surprise. You were the aggressors, hell, some of the humans even joined you!” Fanatics. More than a tenth of the humans had fought along side the ones who’d tried to end us. No humans adorned their ranks anymore. There had been no need for orders – every bullet fired, every shell detonated – was aimed to human first, then to angel or demon. No one liked a traitor. \n\nRegardless, I continued. “Now we own hell. We have control of your hellfire, and soon we will figure out a way into heaven. You will never threaten us again.”\n\nSilence. The humans had beaten out the worst. From here on, especially with Hellfire augmenting our tech, humans were only getting stronger, while the angels and demons grew weaker.\n\n“What do you want?” said Lucifer.\n\nI allowed myself a real smile. “What? No bravado now? No threats?”\n\n“Pride, mortal,” Michael growled. “It shall be your downfall.”\n\nI put my glass on the table and spread my hands. “Pride seems to have served us pretty well thus far.”\n\nAgain that silence. I let it fill the room. They were the ones negotiating; I held all the power in this room. \n\n“We will not give up heaven,” Michael said. “We would rather fight to the death than give it up.”\n\nI turned toward Lucifer, expecting him to say something, to scream about a betrayal, but he looked coldly ahead, the only sign of tension being his clenched fist. “And the demons?” I asked. \n\nMichael narrowed his eyes. “The Demons will be welcomed back from where they had Fallen. Now that we know who the real demons are, we will need all the deterrent we can get.”\n\nLucifer unlocked his jaws. “You get hell, all the hellfire, and we get a truce. A Binding.”\n\nA Binding huh? It was a contract that could not be broken without the consent of all the parties. A treaty backed by a Binding was completely enforceable – it was Heaven’s most powerful sword and shield. It’s what guaranteed that this meeting was peaceful. Honestly, it was far more than I’d expected. I’d never expected, or even dreamed, of concessions this big. \n\n“No,” I said. \n\n“Pardon?” Michael asked.\n\n“Did I stutter?” I shot back. “There is no deal. I’m here to demand your utter and complete surrender. You move out the way, you tell us how to get to heaven, and we let you live.”\n\n“The sheer insolence –” Michael began but Lucifer cut him off. \n\n“Then why call us here, mortal?” Lucifer said, his voice pitched low, lethal. “We will not surrender, you know that. Not to humans.” Again, that derision, as if it were a curse word. \n\n“Why did you fail?” I asked. \n\nLucifer narrowed his eyes. \n\n“You all had this planned since the beginning of time. You had to have foreseen guns. The technology. Yet you screwed up, how?”\n\n“Why would I answer?” Lucifer said. \n\n“It’s rhetorical question, Lucy,” I said, and at the nickname, his eyes blazed with literal fire for a moment before calming. “I know what happened. Your four horsemen who were supposed to nuke us –”\n\n“Didn’t show!” Michael burst out. “One job, Hell had one job to do that would set the universe right, and they managed to bungle it! One of them didn’t show! That's why the humans were even able to fight back!” he was standing, his breathing heavy, eyes locked directly on Lucifer. \n\nBut Lucifer was staring wide eyed at me, and I watched the understanding flare in his eyes. I let the curtain slip and my power filled the room. The president of the humans, their greatest leader, the one who led them on the grandest conquest that would ever be. Not human at all.\n\nMichael and Lucifer flinched back as if struck. I let the power coil around them, and they froze, not daring to even lift a finger. “This…this is not possible,” Lucifer managed. “You cannot be this powerful.”\n\nI laughed. “The greatest war in history will do that to me,” I said. “Now. You said you wouldn’t surrender to a mortal. I ask you to reconsider. Will you surrender to War herself?”\n\n***\n(minor edits)\n\nDue to popular demand: [Part 2: Ready for War](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9rus3o/fantasy_ready_for_war_war_2/?)\n\nIf you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,862	11,239	0.197539	1,024	[ { "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 your friend is drunk he says that he is a wizard. So you jokingly ask him to make you immortal. That was 200 years ago.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Why don’t you make me immortal then?”\n\n“Fine then.”\n\n\\_\\_\n\nThe clock chimes out. Its sound was growing rather dull now. A light breeze flowed in. Dates held no meaning to me anymore. I tried to keep track, but time slipped from me as the years accumulated. Thankfully, my looks remained relatively the same. Shuffling to the bathroom, I contemplated what I was going to do today. With a toothbrush half sticking out of my mouth, the door sounded.\n\nMy expression turned to dismay once I saw my guest.\n\n“Happy birthday! You thought I would forget? You know I could never forget your birthday!” I gave him a clear eye roll. He continued, “Not to be rude, but you look like shit right now, so get back down here when you’re ready.”\n\nOrion was back again. I loathed him but still kept him around. After all, it was his magic that caused the current predicament I was in. Finishing up, I found him as always, lounging about on my couch. A rather strong scent of a particular plant emanated off of him. “So, Orion, what’s your surprise this year? Last time, you tried to set me up on a date with a mortal.”\n\n“Don’t worry, I got a nice surprise for you this time.” The scent he carried grew more pungent as he opened his mouth to talk. He dug through his bag and produced a small vial. “Here, drink this.” He gave a toothy grin. “It’ll grant you that wish you’ve been having all this time.”\n\nShaking the product about, I noted green bits floating about the surface.\n\n“Are you sure this is going to work?” He ignored me. I took another glance at the concoction. Flakes of green swirled about the liquid. The cork sealing it came off with rather ease. I tipped it up but stopped. The smell of it sent my stomach churning. Was he smoking when he created this? “Hey, I don’t have a good-”\n\n“Oh, just drink it.” Reaching over, Orion dumped the solution down my throat.\n\n“What was that-” I doubled over. I could feel it, my insides were tingling with each passing moment. Is this finally it? The end, I can feel it coming! My body felt aflame, but I’d never felt more alive before, even when I was still mortal. It was coming, the sweet release of death. The sensation grew, it drowned out my surroundings, it blocked out Orion’s words now; I let it take me.\n\nThe darkness was a comfort. Reaching out, I felt nothing, yet my body glided through this space. My peace was rather short-lived as a voice filled the void. The words were murky, however, I recognized the speaker. Slowly, the words became audible. The void was slowly retreating, colorful surroundings were filling my vision.\n\n“Dude, how do you feel?”\n\n“Orion?” He was hovering above me now, the scent of a rather infamous herb still floating through the air. My living room was still present in my view. My head flopped back down on the ground, “I feel like shit.”\n\nIf only Orion could be sober for a change, maybe then he could solve this mess once and for all.\n\nr/CasualScribblings", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,080	11,238	0.036549	2,096	[ { "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 real reason witches want first-born kids for their services is to protect those children from the parents greedy enough to accept in the first place.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Mara stared up at the house.\n\nIt loomed overhead, gaudy and opulent and everything she'd known it would be. She eyed the wonderfully worked rafters, the intricate brickwork that lined the eaves.\n\n\"Come on,\" she heard a voice say, quiet and firm. \"Don't dally.\"\n\nKatherine was looking, when she turned. Waiting. There was no anger in her eyes, no pressure in the expression - just an iron, unwavering conviction.\n\n\"Right,\" she echoed.\n\nTogether, they walked up the front steps.\n\nThe doorbell was just as ostentatious as the rest of the house. It echoed when they pushed the button, resounding with a cacophany of electronically generated bells. They waited. Mara clenched her fists, feeling the slow, steady acceleration of her pulse.\n\nAnd then a hand landed on her shoulder. \"Don't worry so much. It'll be fine.\"\n\n\"But they-\"\n\nThe creaking of the door opening cut her off. Mara stopped, the words dying on her lips.\n\nA woman peered out from the crack at them, her eyes as round as dinner plates. \"Uh...are you-\"\n\n\"We're here for the deal.\" All of the gentleness vanished from Katherine's voice in an instant. Her head held high, she stepped over the threshold, pushing right past the woman. \"Where is she?\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" the woman said, scowling. \"We had an agreement. Pay up first.\"\n\n\"Mommy?\"\n\nMara spun, her mouth falling open - and caught sight of the little girl, peeking around the corner of a hall. Her heart sank. The girl was lovely, with brilliant blue eyes and hair that glowed even in the dark - and there was no mistaking the love in her eyes as she stared at the woman.\n\nPoor thing.\n\n\"Not now, Zoe. Mommy's busy,\" the woman snapped.\n\nThe girl flinched.\n\n\"Zoe?\" Mara said, turning towards the girl. \"That's a pretty name.\"\n\n\nThe girl beamed, exposing a gap-toothed grin. That was all the encouragement she needed, apparently. She bounded across the gap, presenting a worn-down teddy bear for Mara to inspect.\n\nShe did so, murmuring all the while. She wasn't even sure what she was saying - her attentions were fixed on Katherine, who was even then talking.\n\n\"You understand the contract, yes?\" she heard the senior witch say, her tone as brusque as it had been at the door.\n\n\"Yes, yes. I made the agreement didn't I? Why don't you-\"\n\n\"Why don't you go outside and play with Zoe, Mara?\" Kathering said abruptly, cutting the woman off. \"Would you like that, Zoe?\"\n\nMara's heart caught in her throat. But Zoe only giggled, grabbing her hand and towing her towards the door. \"Do you like tag?\"\n\n\"I do,\" Mara whispered, letting herself be pulled out. \"I like tag a lot.\"\n\nShe was across the room in seconds - but it wasn't fast enough to miss Katherine's voice. It had dropped a full octave, low enough she had to strain to hear.\n\n\"So you want immortality, do you?\" the witch said. \"Enough to go to these lengths? Well. Let's see what we can do about that.\"\n\nWhatever the 'mother' said in return, it was eaten up by the sound of the door closing.\n\nMara sagged, leaning back against the heavy wood. Zoe didn't wait. She skipped across the yard, towards where a playhouse waited in the corner.\n\nThere were statues filling the elegantly-styled property, Mara saw. Ugly, bulky things, carved from marble and granite.\n\nThey suited the woman.\n\n\"Zoe,\" she heard herself say. The girl spun on her heel.\n\nIt was her first time. Katherine had told her she'd be fine, had reassured her over and over again. She'd played the other role any number of times - the vengeful angel, the one who claimed the price these excuses for parents paid for their children's lives.\n\nBut this was her first time playing the other role.\n\nZoe spun, twisting to face her. \"Huh?\"\n\n\"Come here. I have something I'd like to give you.\" She slid the toy from her pocket - a doll, intricately carved from wood. She'd never seen its like before.\n\nWell, besides for the one that sat beside her bed back in her room.\n\nZoe's eyes lit up. She sprinted closer, grabbing hold of the wooden girl, and turned it this way and that.\n\nMara's hand dropped onto her head, her touch soft and gentle.\n\nThe girl would never understand, she knew. She was too young. The woman inside was her mother - even if she'd been willing to sign away her life for a spell.\n\nIt was kinder this way. She repeated the thought over and over, clinging to it as a pale bit of comfort.\n\nAnd then she summoned up her magic, whispering the words that would wipe that monster from the girl's mind forever.\n\nIt began slowly - just a dimming in Zoe's eyes, a stiffening of her hands. She still held the toy, but she'd frozen in place like a statue.\n\nAnd then it was done, and Mara drooped. She pulled the girl into her arms, holding her tight.\n\n\"It'll be better from here,\" she whispered. \"I promise.\"\n\nThey'd done their research thoroughly, Katherine and her. They weren't about to steal from a deserving parent, after all. They'd seen the way the girl was treated. The disdain. The neglect.\n\nDistantly, she wondered if her own mother had been like that.\n\nThe door pushed open - and Katherine stepped out briskly, her skirts swishing behind her. \"Done?\"\n\nMara nodded, wordless. The girl was stirring, opening her eyes - and there was confusion there. For the first time, she looked afraid.\n\n\"A-Are you done?\" she asked Katherine, glancing in the window.\n\nThe older witch's laughter pulled her up short. \"Oh, yes,\" Katherine said, a tiny smile touching her lips. \"Have to say, she made it easy with a house like this. Lots of options. I'll come back for the father tonight. We should take care of Zoe first, shouldn't we?\" She leaned over on the last word, smiling at the girl.\n\nMara squeezed the child's hand, standing. She cast one more look towards the house, the gaudy, hideous thing.\n\nThe woman had asked for immortality, eh?\n\nShe didn't have to look around to know that when they left, the yard would have one more statue to its name.\n\n\"Let's go,\" she said, tugging on Zoe's arm. Katherine was already sweeping towards the car, full of smug satisfaction.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Zoe said, her brow furrowing. \"Where are we going?\"\n\nShe'd be foggy for days, Mara knew. And then the girl would adjust - just as Katherine had, just as she had.\n\nShe beamed down at the girl instead, forcing as much reassurance into the expression as she could, and turned towards the car waiting in the driveway.\n\n\"Home.\"\n\n(/r/inorai for shorter stuff by me,\n\n/r/redditserials for longer stuff by me and others!)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,462	11,234	0.054441	1,964	[ { "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 year, the richest person in America is declared the \"Winner of Capitalism.\" They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Brewster's Billions\n___________________________________________________________________________________________\nTiming was everything. Ever since the rules to the game of capitalism had been formalized, the race was on. The challenge was to become the second-richest person in America by midnight on New Year’s Eve. \n\nOf course, the real game only began in December. If you started too early, you would be left without enough money to even approach the number two spot in the next year. It was more of a blow to pride than a real loss, when you were talking billions of dollars, but no one competitive enough to be one of the richest in the world had any shortage on pride.\n\nOn December 1st, Jeff Bates and Slim Bill faced off in Times Square. Bates had a small lead going in, at just over a hundred billion dollars. Slim Bill was only in the upper nineties.\n\nThe two of them were surrounded by a crowd of starving middle class people, dressed in rags. They were eager. December was the month when those two would shake riches enough for a lifetime off like dust from their sleeves. They did stay careful to leave them a safe distance. There was no use in killing the golden goose before it laid its eggs.\n\n“Pathetic,” Slim Bill told Bates. Bill was dressed in a robe of solid gold, with an Boston Labs exoskeleton underneath, designed specifically to help him hold up the weight. Diamonds adorned his earlobes. The left had been doused in blood from the prince of England; the right in Audrey Hepburn’s blood, produced in a lab from a DNA sample. On his shoulder rested a one-of-a-kind Chanel purse fashioned from quagga fur. It was easy to be secure in your masculinity when you had more money than God.\n\nBates wore jeans and a black turtleneck. His outfit couldn’t have cost more than a hundred dollars, even the shoes.\n“You brought toys. I’m thinking bigger.” He gestured upwards. \n\n“Slim Bill is a loser,” splashed across the Times Square Tower. \n\n“At $23 million a year to rent, it’s a bargain really,” he said. “I’ve rented it out for the next hundred years, paid in advance. That should put me neatly into second place.” \n\nSlim smiled. “That’s going to embarrassing for the next hundred years when you lose.” He reached into his purse and pulled the Hope diamond.\n\n“$350 million is the valuation, but I’m afraid I’m an awful bargainer this time of year. They managed to push me to 500.” \n\nHe punted it away like a hacky sack. The crowd dove, killing each other for scraps. \n\n“As for this,” he gestured to his outfit, “I didn’t even ask for the price. But I’m in second, don’t you worry about that Jeff.” \n\nSlim slipped off his robe and walked away naked, leaving his other expensive toys behind.\n\nBates stood there, fist clenched and thinking hard.\n\nA month passed. Slim Bill and Jeff Bates drove each other to ever-increasing heights of conspicuous spending, but stayed careful not to overdo it. The third place candidate had $74 billion and dropping below that would defeat the point of the game. One obvious way to force victory would be to give ten or twenty billion to their opponent, but it was a cheap win. Neither of them would sink to that level.\n\nIn the first week they started with charitable donations. 564,708 homeless people lived in the United States. They started tracking things a lot better in late November. Bates bought each of them a laptop and an iPhoneX, for $2000 a person. Just over a billion dollars.\n\nSlim paid rent for each of them for a year. At an average of $600/month, he spent a little over 4 billion dollars. Part of it was spent on buying houses. Assets retained their value, so they were not a loss that would help him get closer to second place. Everything else was actual rent in more expensive neighborhoods.\n\nBates - 97. Slim - 93. \n\nIn the next two weeks, Bates had to step it up. Huge national donations took time to roll out, and his opponent had a $4 billion dollar lead. He decided to hold the biggest party of all time.\n\nHe rented out every beach on the east coast. Legal? Maybe. But governors were tripping over themselves to have him spend money in their state. For the actual entertainment, he had 198 F/A 18 Hornets doing shows up and down the coast in squads of six. Free food went without saying.\n\nHe considered free flights out for anyone who wanted to come, but if he did that, he’d have to include hotel fees, and everything would get a lot more unpredictable. Third place beckoned.\n\nThe planes were most expensive, $29 million each for about $5.8 billion. He let the pilots take them home afterwards. Most states didn’t charge for the beach rentals and the ones that did only cost him about $300 million. He set up a public account online with $2 billion and made it usable only to buy food with for the party. If they didn’t use it all up that day, it would be gone by the end of the month.\n\nIn the same two weeks, Slim spent most of his time pissing off rooftops, inviting lawsuits that he quickly settled as expensively as he could. Headlines about trickle-down wealth got old very quickly.\n\nBates - 90. Slim - 91.\n\nBates was starting to get paranoid. It was December 31st, and Slim hadn’t made any moves in weeks. Just after 11 p.m., he donated $5 billion to cancer research. It was a boring move, rarely done. But he knew Slim had something planned and he wanted to widen his lead while he still had it.\n\nBates - 85. Slim - 91.\n\nHe knew Slim had something planned because he had invited Bates to the California border. \n\n“For ten billion dollars…” Slim held his pinky to his mouth and grinned. “I have purchased the state of California.”\n\n“Ten billion for a blue state? You drastically overpaid.” The two of them laughed.\n\n“Victory is mine,” Slim Bill said.\n\nBates squinted. “Are you forgetting the rules of the game? Assets count.” He felt hope spring up. It was 11:45 p.m. now. It was too late for him to make another purchase, but the same was true for Slim. If this was his last play, it wouldn’t be enough.\n\n“I know. But you see, even though I’m the richest man in the world, there’s one thing I still don’t bother to pay for.” Slim lit a match.\n\n“And what’s that?” Bates said, feeling his hope slip away.\n\n“Fire insurance.”\n\nSlim threw the match, and quickly sent a text. When midnight struck, all of California was burning. 30 million people died before they could be evacuated. The other billionaires agreed it was one of the best games in years. \n\n___________________________________________________________________________________________\n10/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,246	11,234	0.010441	2,174	[ { "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": " \"Shark Tank\" but instead of an entrepreneur pitching inventions, it's villains pitching diabolical plots.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Welcome to the Shark Tank, where all manner of nefarious and diabolical individuals come to pitch their plans of domination to five of the most seasoned villains in the business. Lets meet the Sharks!\n\nFirst up, we have the true monster, Dr. Frankenstein! With over forty years in the reanimation business, Dr. Frankenstein knows when he see's a SHOCKING development in his industry!\n\nNext, we have the count of cool, the dragon of fashion, his bite is worse than his bark, its Dracula! Immortal adjacent, this tall, dark and devilish bachelor is always looking for a way to spread his influence throughout eastern Europe and beyond!\n\nThird, the shark that's always clowning around, Pennywise! Actually an inter dimensional force of pure evil, he has a sweet tooth for anything that can make your skin crawl. Better tread careful, he's the one who can make your idea sink or float!\n\nFourth on the docket, just in from a red eye, lord of Mordor but not the ring, Sauron! A fallen spirit succumb to darkness, his path to world domination involves a piece of costume jewelry wielded by two halflings. Best try to not hide anything, nothing escapes his gaze!\n\nLastly, our fifth and final judge: Hitler! It's just Hitler. If you don't know who he is read a book.\n\nToday we have the evil monster maker Dr. Abomino, a mad scientist pitching a secret gas that turns any who inhale it into a mutant.\n\n\"Hello sharks, my name is, eh, Dr. Abomino and I've brought with me today-\"\n\n\"Doctor in what?\" Asked Dr. Frankenstein through thick laboratory goggles. \n\n\"Excuse me?\" Said Dr. Abomino, visibly shaken.\n\n\"What. Is. Your. Doctorate. In.\" Repeated Dr. Frankenstein. \"Medicine, biochemistry, neurology, what are we dealing with here?\"\n\n\"Well I am a few credits shy from completing my degree......\"\n\n\"Degree in what MR. Abomino?\"\n\n\"Erm.....communication.....\"\n\nFrankenstein leaned back in his chair and let out a huff. \"Well Mr. Abomino, you have misrepresented yourself in the first few seconds of your presentation. But please, continue.\" Said Frankenstein with a snort as he crossed his arms. \n\n\"Ahem, yes, sorry Doctor. As I was saying I have developed a neurological gas,\" here Hitler began to sit up straight in his seat, \"that does not kill the victim.\" Hitler collapsed back in his chair disappointed. \n\n\"Instead, the gas mutates the victim horribly until it becomes a semi human monstrosity, capable of destruction and devastation to all it comes into contact with.\"\n\n\"Did you bring an example with you?\" Asked Dracula, tapping his finger tips together.\n\n\"Yes sir, FETCH ME THE BEAST!\" Dr. Abomino commanded to the stage hand holding a doughnut. \n\nA large steel cage covered in a cloth was rolled in. Underneath the cloth came terrible gutteral noises and the sound of metal straining. In one foul swoop, the cloth was ripped off to display the horribly disfigured beast, covered in boils and riddled with deformities. It let out a mighty bellow and rattled the cages walls, desperately striving to be free.\n\n\"Mmmmmhmm, and what are the combat implications Herr Abomino?\" Asked Hitler.\n\n\"They each have the strength of ten men, the endurance of an elephant and a pathological need to enact violence upon mankind.\" Replied Abomino proudly.\n\n\"I think I have found a problem with your creation Abomino.\" said Hitler. He took out a walther ppk and shot the beast in his head. With one long moan, the abomination collapsed to the floor and let out a death shudder.\n\n\"The problem is,\" said Hitler, \"they can still be killed with weapons as simply as anyone else! And I would bet they cant use guns either!\"\n\n\"Yes that is.....correct.....\" Said Abomino, slumping his shoulders and lowering his head. \"But they can be improved! Given armor, dilute the formula to keep the higher reasoning. All I need is some support. I'm asking for one hundred thousand for a 10% stake in the plot.\"\n\n\"Im out\" hissed Pennywise. \"No fear factor. No style. Too boring for me to play with.\n\n\"As the only real Doctor here, I can say that this plan is doomed to fail. Therefore, I am also out.\" Said Frankenstein.\n\nSauron gave one thumb down from his seat.\n\n\"It is an interesting idea......fresh take on an old trope...\" Said Dracula licking his fangs. \"But what is your method of control? Telepathic, shock collar, basic training, what do you use?\" Inquired the count.\n\n\"That process is still in the, uh, research and development stage. I am thinking of using a modified shock collar/ body cam combo to remotely check and direct their actions. \n\n\"Wait, you have no ability to control them?\"\n\n\"No sir, that was one of the uses for the funding I requested.\"\n\n\"I'm out. I like you Abomino, but you can't just come in here with an idea and nowhere to go with it. You need to have a detailed strategy and a finished product. I'll put you on my backburner and check in with you in a few years, but I'm just not prepared to put the money down on a work in progress.\"\n\nWith four sharks out, Hitler is Abomino's last hope. Let's see if they can make a deal...\n\n\"So, mein friend, it's just the two of us. Would you like to adjust your asking price?\"\n\n\"I, uhh, I think that the hundred thousand for a ten percent stake is very, uh, fair.\"\n\n\"Before I make an offer, tell me, how well do they hold up in the cold? Say.....Russia in winter cold.....\"\n\n\"My creations have to be kept at, uhm, around forty to eighty degrees for best performance.\"\n\n\"Best performance?\"\n\n\"Yes furher, they tend to uhm, expire when taken out of that temperature range for a long period of time.\"\n\n\"So, the only thing your creations will be good for invading is a tropical climate? I'm sorry, but the list of soldiers requesting to be stationed in Sicily is already too high, I'm out.\"\n\nThe last shark is out, and now Dr. Abomino has no one to make an offer. As such, he must be removed from the tank\n\nA large trapdoor opened underneath Dr. Abomino and both creator and creation tumbled into a small pool filled with ravenous sharks that had been circling hungrily for hours. The five sharks watched with amusement as the contestant was ripped to shreds by the literal sharks. Frankenstein grinned, Dracula licked his lips and narrowed his eyes, Pennywise giggled gleefully, Sauron looked on motionless, and Hitler kept looking in a mirror.\n\nCraig the production manage came out with his megaphone, \"Alright that's lunch. Be back in 45 everyone, we have a busy day ahead.\"\n\nEdit: wow, thanks for all the support and kind words everyone, this was a very pleasant suprise this morning \n\nEdit 2: Ok, this is actually pretty uplifting for me. Thank you again for all the kind words as well as the criticisms. I apologize but I will NOT be doing another of these or expanding upon the prompt. It was an incredibly fun prompt to write and I'm glad you all enjoyed it, but I feel that I've done all I can with it. Personally I just believe that making a sequel with high expectations will never live up to the original. That being said, if anyone wants to use this as a jumping off point or want to expand upon it themselves, you have my blessing. I just ask you credit me or link to this story if you do. Again, one thousands thanks to all of you", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,639	11,229	0.159249	1,786	[ { "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 pinned down, outnumbered and out of ammo. Your partner says, \"There's no way we're both getting out of here alive.\" He pulls out a small pistol and presses it to his temple. He smile and says, \"I'm going ghost\". He pulls the trigger. The enemy stops firing... then they start screaming.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I instinctively clenched my fist as the words came out of his mouth.\n\nI looked at him, right into his eyes. Silently begging him not to it, telling him that there would always be a way. We were Robin Hood, and we were founded on the very ideal that there would always be hope. Our pistols were empty, hanging loosely off of torn holsters. My leg was hit, he was right in front of me, pistol to his head, a slight smile on his face. Too far for me to reach, as the boulder that served as our shield was pummeled by a barrage of bullets.\n\nI reached towards him, but his mind was made up. The last whispers exited his body, remnants of what he said to me.\n\n\"We ain't getting out of here alive, not both of us. So, I'm going ghost, only because it has been a real pleasure working with you.\"\n\nI wasn't embarrassed that tears stung my eyes as he fell to the floor, still twitching with the final spasms of life. I mean, he was my partner. We rode together, we robbed together. Robin Hood, we called ourselves. Stealing from the filthy rich who thrived off of the suffering of others, and giving it back to the poor. Well, some of it, at least. I couldn't pretend that we were all chivalrous in our theft, but I had never seen him, in spite of all those bullets and pistols that we carried, empty any of them into another person. He preferred to punish via money, hitting them where it hurt the most.\n\nThe trickle of blood exited his forehead, and rolled down the small glen towards the horde of Lord Frederick Owensby's most ruthless mercenaries. At least thirty of them, armed, firing, taking in our helplessness. Even if by some miracle either of us managed to get a shot off, we would be retaliated against in full and fearsome fashion.\n\nI slumped over by the boulder, and prepared to die. The words echoed in my brain-- I'm going ghost.\n\nHis unique Gift, maybe? I thought to myself as the artillery fire echoed in my ears. They should have killed me by now, if they had any sense at all.\n\nIt had been Robin Hood's toughest job to boot. The righteous thief, striking at a vile private sanctuary owned by a oligarch who hunted endangered animals and operated inhumane diamond mines.\n\n\"Think about it.\" my partner had said to me. \"Think of the statement we would be making. We steal from his personal sanctuary, a gilded puzzle piece given to him by the Sultan of Brunei. He's too much of a narcissist to put it anywhere but in the open, and I have a few friends who would be willing to help us crack the thing.\"\n\nIt was those same friends who told Owensby's crown guards about the plan before it had even occurred, for a gorgeous sum of money, of course. If there was ever a time to use those bullets, it was on those degenerates. We had broken into the cage ring next to the puzzle piece exhibit, where large, imported granite boulders carved into the ground provided ample footing for some of the endangered birds that roamed the premises. In the distance, there was a noise. Growing steadily louder, I was unnerved. I told him that we should abort the whole thing, but to escape then would have been so difficult.\n\n\"Keep at it, Ollie.\" he told me, his eyes dancing ferociously. \"We can't stop. Not now. Robin Hood always comes for His target.\"\n\nLeaning on the blood streaked boulder, I wished I had convinced him to turn back. To see another day. But he, he was Robin Hood. He epitomized the righteous thief. I was in it for the money for so long, but he always put the message first. There was never a theft without a note, quill stabbed into it, the seal of thief scrawled hastily in the corner.\n\nI looked over at his body, and saw it start to tremble, to shake ever so slightly. It was seconds away from my death, seconds after his own bullet pierced through his brain. He shook, his arms flailing around, before something came out. Something incorporeal, like a breath in the cold or a puff of ocean mist. The fire of the artillery stopped, before I peeked around the boulder to see every man on their knees, eyes wide and suffused with red, weapons at their feet and slowly emptying out on their own accord. I closed my ears, they rang and ached even in the piercing silence.\n\nWas this his Gift? I thought to myself. He always talked about how he was special, Gifted with a death beyond compare. Was this what he meant? He always told me that.\n\n\"Ollie, even after I die.\" he explained, while hastily scribbling in a tattered journal. \"I'll send a message. Promise. I can't prove it yet, but if I'm lucky you'll see it someday\".\n\nI didn't really listen at the time. I thought he meant the whole philosophy of our group. Robin Hood, what we stood for. Emancipation for the poor, justice for the oppressed.\n\n\"Oliver, when I die, you'll survive.\" he made me repeat after him. I refused, calling him a moron.\n\nBut as the vapor swirled around, entering the open mouth of the thirty soldiers who looked to the sky in the greatest demonstration of fear that I had ever seen, I wondered if his Gift truly did mean a death without compare. His body, laying there, began to shrivel up and dissipate into more clouds of the unholy gas, as the screaming grew louder, and louder. I found myself growing more tired as each second passed by, until I passed out, oblivious to the mist which stung at the throat, eyes, and souls of our attackers.\n\nI woke up in bed. Bedsheets neatly done, untouched and familiar as familiar gets. Bout something was different. It was his journal, lying on the nightstand, flipped open to a new and completely untattered page.\n\nNeatly scrawled in new ink on the page, was the following:\n\n\"Keep at it, Ollie.\"\n\n\\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/bluelizardK", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,182	11,224	0.041904	1,216	[ { "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 Catholic Church.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Private Journal of Pope Francis\n\nEntry 1\n\nThe Church is dying. The old generation refuses to see it, and the new generation has known nothing but decline. The select few - the old but not prideful see the slow death of it - the choking out of the truth. \n\nThe Church is not dying naturally, oh no. Given free reign, the Lord's truth will only grow in radiance. No, the Church is being murdered, strangled. Killed by the media, new entertainment devices, new ways to pass the time, and of course, The Church itself is being poisoned from the inside. People are so drawn in to themselves that they stray further and further from the Light. They remember what religion has driven the minority to do - to kill, to hate, to rape, that they forget what the majority does: love and save. \n\nI cannot save it. Though it shames me to say it, I can do nothing. The Church was supposed be evolve with time, but is hasn't changed in the last 70 years. I cannot bring 70 years worth of change in less than ten. \n\nI implore the God, though we may be unworthy, to give us a Miracle. \n\nEntry 2\n\nThen God said, \"let there be light,\" and there was light. \n\nIt has happened. The Miracle. I curse myself even now for doubting, for falling into despair. The Lord helps his children: he always has, he always will. \n\nI never though it possible, but Disney, yes Disney the movie company has offered to purchase us, The Church. The deal is private for now of course, I can only imagine the media stink when this goes live, but for now only I and a select few know. The select who are like me: old but not full of pride. They see what this is: a chance for salvation. \n\nModern industries like Disney are the kind of institutions that have contributed to our fall, so our only chance is to become one of them, to play their game. A game not of prayers and good faith, but of entertainment and accessibility.\n\nI doubt the Disney executives see it, but they are not purchasing us, we are infiltrating them.\n\nEntry 3 \n\nThe Negotiations are complete. There was some money involved, which I used to silence some of the dissenters withing the Church, but the real deal was the talk of rights. Every movie made by Disney would have a Catholic priest as an adviser. None of his suggestions would be mandatory, but the director would be obliged to listen. The executives had smiled when they heard. Thinking us fools. They were the fools. Priests had convinced people to change their way of life, what was convincing a director to make a slight adjustment to a film?\n\nDisney would have rights to present the material of the Church in any light, and the Church would legally sign away any recourse of heresy or libel. Again, this was just a benefit. The Church's image could hardly get worse. A dying patient would rather take the dangerous experimental drug rather than do nothing. \n\nEntry 4\n\nBusy. Managing Media. Meetings. Will convince them. Will obey the lord's will. \n\nEntry 5\n\nIt has taken a year, but the deal has officially happened. The legal battles are over, the strife in the Church has...lessened. The media coverage however, has just intensified. Some fear it may be the end of the Church as we know it, but the Church was ending anyways. Either I have saved it, or just accelerated its demise. \n\nTime will tell.\n\nEntry 6\n\nThe first movie released today. The first movie under the Catholic Disney, or the Disney Church, depending on who you're asking. It was about a bitter boy who lost his parents in war, and how he finds comfort in the form a nun who was excommunicated. Even I must say it was heartwarming to watch. Some of the dissenters are even coming around. Saying this wan't that bad of an idea after all. The movie is a huge hit, children love it, adults love it. Even the media has grudgingly admitted that it's one of the best movies Disney has ever released. \n\nAnd they say Miracles do not occur. \n\nEntry 7\n\nI have done it, I think. I have created a new Church, a new world. Now I can rest. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,613	11,219	0.022707	567	[ { "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 thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the \"myth\" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"It's a lie. Or fake.\" \n\n\"Its a message from the gods\"\n\n\"I told you earth was real\"\n\nThese phrases and many more were heard throughout the hull of the space ship. Every single crewmemeber, old and young, Male and female, were questioning the origin and intent of the message received. This time however the questions were not coming from some lowly engineer or cook... no this time they were said by members of the supreme command council. \n\n\"Silence!\" the skipper roared at the assembled members. \"We must decide how to act!\" \"The signal was truly along the path of travel so if there was or rather is an earth it is genuinely from there\" the head of navigation interjected. \"As far as I am concerned there is an actual earth\" the lead astronomist said. At this point the head priest angrily interrupted \"impossible! The earth is but an allegory! The message is the work of dark forces trying to tempt us to evil!\" This understandably stalled the conversation for a minute until from the back of the room a quiet voice asked \"but what exactly was the message?\"\n\n\"The message,\" the skipper said, \"is the following: 'earth is doomed. Destruction imminent. Catastrophic asteroid to destroy us. Continue on for you are the last of us. The age of the dinosaur is over.'\" \n\nEdit: spelling fix", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,681	11,201	0.022976	846	[ { "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 magically gifted the ability to speak all languages. Anything you say comes out in the first language of whoever you're looking at. One day, you try to greet someone on the street and they gape in horror as ancient, unknowable eldritch sounds exit your mouth. The ground shakes...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"What have you done?\", cried the man in horror. He was speaking English despite it not being his first language. \"The ancient tongue has not been spoken aloud in centuries. You fool!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\", I tried to say, but the screeching sounds I made were cut off mid-sentence by the strange man grabbing me and covering my mouth. The ground shook harder. \n\n\"Quiet, fool! You're going to get us both killed!\" \n\nSteam began to exit the sewers, the ground shook even more violently than before and the road began to crack right down the middle. I opened my mouth in horror and began to ask another question but the man cut me off. \n\n\"Be silent. He is coming. And we will greet him upon his emergence.\"\n\nAnd so he emerged, from that crack in the road in all his dreadful glory. A horror from another dimension. My mind collapsed. It was as if the world around me no longer existed. There was only him. And he was terror incarnate. Fear consumed me. I only became aware of my body as I felt the warm sensation of my bowels emptying themselves, and cold sweat covering my brow. \n\nAnd then he spoke. And I understood. He was asking me to explain why he had been summoned. Why I had awoken him from his slumber. I could not speak, but I felt him crawl into my mind and look for his answer. And then I felt a pain like no other I had felt before. I could not breathe. It was as if was on fire and drowning at the same time. I crumbled and fell to the floor. And then it stopped. All of a sudden it stopped. I felt lighter than air. It was pure ecstasy. It was as though I had been suffering all my life, and was finally free of some torment I had not known was there. I felt pure. He had cleansed me. \n\nAnd so he spoke again, this time not to me, but to the man. He was giving instructions. Instructions to take me somewhere. I was important. I was a messenger. He spoke of a prophecy. And then he disappeared. And I just lay there laughing, completely ecstatic. \n\nThe man helped me up. He looked concerned. \n\n\"Well, it has begun.\" He said to me. \n\n\"What has?\" I asked. \n\n\"The end of our world, and the beginning of theirs.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,918	11,201	0.097488	1,357	[ { "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 own a coffee shop, and you make some damn fine coffee. After decades of running the place, one of your most loyal patrons approaches you, reveals themselves as some kind of immortal being (a god, vampire, etc.), and offers to make you immortal as well, as along as you keep running the shop.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“I make deals,” he said. \n\nI don't think I could ever forget the look in his eyes. Lawrence had been coming to my shop since I opened it. Before I had the vendor lines set in stone and before the 5-star reviews started coming in; he was there. \n\nHe would come in around half past 6, Monday through Friday, and order his coffee. When I expanded the menu he would order a bagel and every so often he wanted something cold. \n\nRegular was an understatement, Lawrence was loyal to a fault. He didn’t want to invest in the shop, and he didn’t want money or recognition. \n\n“I don’t want you to retire.” A cocky half-smirk had graced his face. \n\nIf we are telling the story honestly, I laughed. The expression lit up his face and I nearly blushed. But the longer I looked at him, the funnier I found the whole conversation. I laughed so hard that he chuckled in turn. \n\n“I don’t ever want you to retire,” he had said when I caught my breath again. \n\nWhat we don’t realize about the universe we live in is that extraordinary people look exactly like the ordinary ones. They have dark brown hair and murky hazel eyes. They come in for coffee and quietly read their paperback books. They never hint at what may lay beneath the surface if they don’t have a reason to. \n\nThe monsters lay in the shadows and the heroes hide in plain and sight, and while Lawrence was neither he played by the same set of rules. I don’t know exactly how he knew, but I had been getting ready to retire that next summer. I was getting older and I was getting tired. I wasn’t sure I wanted to run the dim little shop for the rest of my short, human, life when it was all I had ever known.\n\nHe had held his hand out to me that day, waiting for me to seal the deal. Shake his hand and take him up on an offer I didn’t understand. \n\n“How?” I asked him. One little word was my entire response to an offer of immortality if I can make you believe it. \n\nHis lips curled upward, scanning my face for some sign he needed to proceed. \n\n“I told you, I make deals. I have made deals with angels and demons, and I have life to spare.” \n\nI won’t lie to you. I hemmed and hawed, and ended up sitting at a table in my own shop late into the night. I asked a lot of unimportant questions that skirted the real issues. His face held an expression of amusement the entire night, showing no signs of impatience or tiredness. \n\nIt was in the early morning hours of the next day that he reached his hand out once more. My heart beat in my chest with fear and anticipation. I reached my own hand into his, clamping down on his cool skin with a small lump in my throat. I watched our hands move up and then down again, and even as his fingers relaxed around my hand, I stayed clamped down.\n\nI felt like I had known Lawrence most of my life and was looking at a completely different version of him. I had watched him sit at his table in the corner for many years and never known the most important details about him or his life. \n\nAt the end- I guess it's similar to most relationships people have. We think of strangers as friends because we are used to seeing their faces. \n\nThis was the night I realized I knew nothing. I knew nothing about him, and nothing about the people around me. He had lifted the veil and changed my entire life. \n\nIt’s been 150 years since then, and I can still remember his face. I remember every smirk he made that night, and every word he said. He had delayed my retirement, and opened my eyes, and made me so much more aware than I ever knew I wanted to be. \n\nSome days- I get sad I missed a normal life. Others, I look back and remember the night we had made our deal. \n\nMy hand squeezing his long after he had finished the handshake. He had smiled broadly, looking at my face with an eyebrow raised. “Welcome to my world, Samantha.” \n\nMy heart had never beat so hard against my chest. I didn’t know much about him, but I knew I was ready to spend eternity seeing that smile every day. \n\n/r/beezus_writes\n\nEdit: \nIf you are interested in future parts of this story, visit my sub for updates. [Part one is here with instructions.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Beezus_Writes/comments/c6b2mh/the_coffee_shop_part_1)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,090	11,200	0.012413	1,149	[ { "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": " You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "A final blast of Glory’s lazervision singed Nemesis’ hair as his black hole winked out behind him. \n\nHe was alive.\n\nHe was back in his lair. \n\nGlory never missed, not when he had his target in his line of sight. Nemesis had thought he was a goner for sure. But...\n\nHE WAS ALIVE!\n\n“Hahaha! I did it! I really did it,” he gasped. “Lori, play my ‘Hot Jamz for when I win’ playlist!” \n\n“As you wish, Master Nemesis,” Lori said in her robotically feminine voice. A moment later, Lizzo boomed throughout lair. \n\nNemesis slapped his hands to his face, sighed in ecstasy, and at last spun to examine his prize. \n\nThere on the floor, writhing in pain, laid Captain Douchewad’s right hand man, Honor. \n\nNemesis arched an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought he’d hurt the boy, but dimensional travel affected everyone differently the first time. “Hey... uh... You alright over there?” \n\nHonor stiffened. “YES, I’m-“ he tried to rise to his feet, but sank to his knees. He grit his teeth, obviously about to try again. \n\nNemesis laughed. “Woah woah, take it easy. We all know you’re a tough kid, no need to prove yourself.” \n\nThis only seemed to urge Honor on. “I’ve got nothing to prove to you, scum.” \n\nNemesis rolled his eyes. \n\nVeins bulging in his neck, Honor made a shaky attempt to rise. He got about halfway before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and, with a grunt, he fell unconscious on his face. \n\nNemesis nearly laughed at the misguided resolve of heroes and their ilk before he noticed the scorched devastation covering the boy’s back. \n\nHis eyes widened. \n\nGlory never misses.\n\nNemesis scratched his chin. “That bastard, he was ready to incinerate his own sidekick if it meant stopping me.” \n\n But that meant....\n\nThat meant he hadn’t won. \n\nIf the boy’s life meant nothing to Glory, and it clearly did not, he would never be able to use him as a hostage. Quite simply, the boy held no value for him. \n\nNemesis tapped his foot. No value, Nemesis. The boy has NO value.\n\n\nHe scrubbed his hand through his hair in exasperation. Oh what am I doing? What am I THINKING about doing?! \n\nAt last he sighed. \n\n“Lori.” \n\n“Yes, Master Nemesis?”\n\n“Prepare the regeneration pod.”\n\n“Yes Mas-“\n\n“AND TURN OFF THIS PLAYLIST DAMMIT. I... don’t deserve it.” \n\nThe music cut off instantly. \n\nHe went to the boy’s side and, careful not to graze the burns, hefted Honor onto his back. \n\nThe only sounds in the lair were the sounds of his feet trudging slowly on. \n\nThe pod opened with a whoosh, and Nemesis placed the boy inside. \n\nSweat dripped from his forehead and he struggled to catch his breath. Physical exercise wasn’t his thing and, well, the boy had been heavier than he looked. \n\n“Lori, pour me a glass of. No, just get me a bottle of wine.” \n\n“Which vintage would you pref-“\n\n“I don’t care Lori,” he sighed, “Something red. Something strong.”\n\nr/CharlestonChews for part 2 and part 3", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,143	11,195	0.168832	1,511	[ { "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 staff of an obscenely rich billionaire realises their boss feels purposeless and suicidal, which could put an end to their employment. The trusted head butler convinces the boss to wear an outfit and fight criminals, who in reality are costumed staff members just trying to keep their jobs.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Bruce had cracked the mirror on the wall with a henchman's skull, splintered the glass into three zig-zagging triangles. He was the only one standing in the room now, and yet three warped faces stared back at him from the broken mirror: a grinning clown in one triangle, lips covered in blood, pale face undulating like ripples; an old man with tired eyes, in another, who should have stopped playing these games long ago; those familiar black eyes in the final segment, almost hidden behind the black mask, his granite chin stubbled by gray hair.\n\nThe two new faces had kept Bruce alive this long: the Batman had provided him purpose, had done since the day the darkness had all but swallowed him.\n\nAlfred had been there that day, had resuscitated him. But in that darkness of half-death Bruce had been forced to watch a single moment play out a billion times over: the few short seconds it had taken for his parents to be murdered in cold blood. Each viewing had been a knife to his heart. He'd lived that moment on an infinite loop, it seemed, until his heart was more holes than it was substance. Black holes that sucked up all positive feeling and memories.\n\nAnd when he'd awoken, saved by Alfred, his fists had balled tight and his heart -- still there, barely -- hardened.\n\nThe Batman had arisen from Bruce's ashes. He vowed to take revenge on Gotham's underworld.\n\nSomething else had awoken, too. Not long after his resuscitation, just a few weeks later, the clown's face started to appear. Always just out of reach, always behind windows or through glass doors, slipping away from him like water through his fingers.\n\nBut the laughing, that remained in the hallways. Or in his head. Echoing for hours around his skull like a shrill oscillating scream.\n\nThe Joker gave purpose to Batman. He was a hideous amalgamation of everything wrong with the city, with the world. With Bruce himself. He couldn't ever be caught, not even reached -- but Bruce would keep trying to catch him. He had to.\n\nBruce looked down at the black costume fitted tight to his body. Then, at the bodies littering the floor. Penguin's still convulsed, still guzzled blood out of his throat where Bruce had slit it with a shard of glass. Around Penguin lay his dead apostles in a field of liquid rose.\n\nEven the Penguin's face undulated and warped and almost became someone else, almost someone he recognised?\n\nBruce rubbed his temples; his headache was back, screaming and pumping pain inside his brain. \"What's wrong with me?\"\n\nHe fell to the floor, slumped in Penguin's warm blood. The Joker's reflection -- his reflection? -- laughed at him from inside the pool. \"You're just a big joke, Bruce! Batman's about as real as a dream -- all you've done is cut up the cook!\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Master Bruce.... My God... My God...What have you...\"\n\nAlfred. His wrinkled old face looked wrong as he vomited into the blood, as he fell to his hands and knees. \"My God,\" he choked out. Over and over and over. Then finally, \"What have you done?\"\n\n\"What I should have done years ago, Alfred.\"\n\n\"Why... Why?\"\n\n\"Even when I was young, even when a punch would send a man through the air thumping against a wall... they'd always come back. Be working for another villain. Nothing ever changed, Alfred. Not truly.\" The Joker's face grinning in the blood gained color and warped into Bruce's. \"Nothing changed. It all just rotated.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's my fault.\" Alfred was crying now. Always sensitive. Too sensitive. Had held Bruce back from this -- the only possibly outcome -- for far too long, already. Always pushing caution and forgiveness, warning Bruce against becoming the darkness that he fought.\n\n\"My fault. All my fault.\" Eyes were pits of sorrow.\n\nIt was his fault. He'd held Bruce back from the solution for too long.\n\n\"This had to end,\" said Bruce. \"Sooner or later.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" gasped Alfred. \"Yes, God, it had to end. I told them this was a mistake! We were taking... And... I... I need to go make a call. Please, wait here.\"\n\n\"Alfred?\" said Bruce.\n\n\"...Yes, Master Bruce?\"\n\nBlood dripped from Alfred's lips now, as if he'd licked the ground. And the blood was smearing itself into a sloppy crimson smile around Alfred's cheeks. His face fallen as pale as death.\n\nBruce took the shard of glass from Penguin's throat.\n\n\"...Master Bruce?\" taunted the Joker.\n\nBruce wasn't sure if the laughter came from the Joker, or if it came from within his own heart. But it flooded the room in a joy that Bruce hadn't felt in years.\n\nAnd Bruce realised he'd finally caught the villain he'd been chasing.\n\nhahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*HAHA*", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,020	11,176	0.138047	1,076	[ { "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 lives to spare.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "With a jolt, my senses return to me.\n\nWhich one is it now? 298? 299? I would have lost count, were it not for the tattoo etched into my skin, just on my left wrist, reminding me how many I'd used. I can feel the slight prickling sensation as the number changes. That's always the first thing I feel.\n\nThen, the rest. Pain racks my body, but it fades, replaced with a sweet euphoria I could never get enough of. I reach up, grasping the handle of the blade sunk into my gut, sliding it free. I don't feel a thing as the tip withdraws from my body, suspended over the open wound.\n\nThe hole in my stomach, once oozing and wet with blood, begins to seal up, almost like magic. The blood doesn't disappear, but my skin just goes back to how it was: smooth and immaculate.\n\nThe genie had really messed up when I made that wish. Immortality, I'd said, but my voice had choked in between. I'd hesitated on a syllable, the wrong one. The genie, in his all-encompassing knowledge, had been impressed at my mastery of Latin. Before I could get an explanation, the wish was done, and he was gone.\n\nIt wasn't until Death #12 that I realised what had happened. The first 11 before that had be, unsurprisingly, horrifying experiences. Despite being able to return to my body and have it mend before my eyes, the pain was still there. Once I was sure I wasn't high or on drugs, I had done some research. Not immortality, for sure, but im mortality, roughly translated to '999 lives'. Initially, I felt elation. Then, a surge of impulse.\n\nI sat forwards behind the veil of a black curtain and cast the sword aside, letting it clatter to the floor in view of a gleaming spotlight. I heard the hushed gasp of the audience, and my lips curled into a smile. Sliding off the table, I adjusted myself, careful to be sure the blood was evident, and gestured to my assistant to drop the veil.\n\nThe crowd saw me and cheered. Confetti rained from the ceiling, and I bowed, holding my arms wide and soaking in their admiration. I had done it yet again. The impossible. Magic that defied belief. If only they knew.\n\nIt wasn't enough to be reckless; anyone could abseil without a rope or go sky diving without a parachute. No, I need more, I needed fame and glory. That had been my initial plan-- live forever, be forever adored, forever rich, forever everything. Now, my time was limited, to a degree. Sure, I could still live thousands of years, but I could also die, just like any human. Only, I'd return at the end of it, just for one more go.\n\nI cast my gaze to the critics in the audience, catching their stunned faces. I was sure, this time, that I'd done something no-one else could top. I'd be immortalised in the magic business for all time. I bowed again, and couldn't stop myself from grinning.\n\nAnother show was due tomorrow. And another. Then another. What's the price of a few lives for many potential years of luxury? My skin tingled and I cast my gaze towards my wrist.\n\nNumber 300. So that's what it was.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n(Hope this is good! First time posting this sort of thing. Sorry about the typos.)\n\n(Didn't expect this to be as big as it got. Thanks for all the kind words!)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
7,104	11,172	0.024535	504	[ { "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 one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It only took about fifteen minutes worth of conversation for them to figure out I didn't belong here. They always did, no exceptions. Gallas, symposiums, conventions, it didn't matter. It eventually became apparent I was an interloper. Not a true member of the group. That was, until someone started dancing. Or flair bartending. Or on the off chance there was an instrument lying around. In truth my near endless stream of hidden talents always won me acceptance. From the dignitaries, scientists, and Titans of industry at these things. It didn't matter that I only had a shallow working knowledge of their craft. I was fun. \n\nThat's how I did it. How I transformed from being just OK at business and networking into a million dollar company. Of course I hired someone great to manage it. And then I invented something. It was pretty good. Of course I had a great team to finish the R&D phase and perfect it. Then came the marketing. I did a decent job of getting it to store shelves, but my marketing team is the best hands down. \n\nSee, I'm just pretty good at this whole \"business\" thing. But I'm also pretty good at finding people better than me to do it. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,036	11,170	0.037616	1,226	[ { "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 high school SAT’s are replaced with a 50 question nationwide game of Kahoot, and students will do anything to win", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The students filtered into the gymnasium. Rows upon rows of wooden desks lined the multi-purpose sports flooring. Each student glanced at the gym walls reading off row and column numbers as the searched for their seat. Three examiners stood by a large projector screen, which displayed an analogue clock.\n\nA few students approached the examiners, attempting to wring the nerves from their hands. One by one they apologised for forgetting their seat number and the lead examiner, a rotund man with thick porthole like glasses would ask their name, trace his sausage-shaped finger down a list and read off the student's seat combination.\n\nTen minutes before the start of the test the lead examiner whispered something another examiner, a mousy woman, and then addressed the anxious students. The mousy woman scuttled to the gymnasium door and closed it.\n\n'This is the first time an exam of this nature is being run.' The lead examiner said, his voice filling every inch of the hall. 'We ask your patience and understanding while we hand out the devices.'\n\nThe third examiner was a younger boy; he had milk-pale skin with a few lingering adolescent spots. He wore a black t-shirt with the phrase \"There's no place like 127.0.0.1\" proudly printed in white.\n\n'Edward here is going to go over the technical side, while Miss Felicity and I come to collect all illegal material. If you have any phones, smart watches or glasses embedded with Google Glass technology can you please place them on your desks. We will provide bags that you can name and claim back after the exam.'\n\nThe lead examiner and Miss Felicity started weaving around the desks like the ghosts from Pac-Man, placing plastic bags on the desks as they went.\n\n'Good morning.' Edward said and paused as if he expected the students to respond. 'You will each be given a tablet with custom firmware. This means that you will only have access to the Kahoot app. Any attempts at tampering with the firmware will be reported, and you will score a zero.'\n\nEdward finished and stood in awkward silence, rocking ever so slightly while the remainder of electronic goods were collected. Miss Felicity and the lead examiner waddled back to the front with arms burdened by electronics sandwiched up to their chins. With the rogue devices taken, the three examiners set about distributing the school approved electronics.\n\nFrom a bird's eye view, it was possible to distinguish the various methods of cheating. Some students scouted their surrounding classmates, preparing for the oncoming need to copy. Some students double-checked their hidden notes, on their arms, their legs and some went as far as to hide them on their bosom. There was one student who took a more advanced approach to cheat, having inserted a memory card into his tablet. The boy's screen changed from the Kahoot waiting lobby, to a basic looking web browser and he breathed a sigh of relief before tabbing back to the lobby.\n\n'The exam is interactive and will be conducted all around the nation. Grading works on a knock-out basis. There are fifty questions, if you answer one wrong at any point you will be ejected from the lobby and your result will be recorded. Questions progress from easy to hard as time goes on. You have thirty seconds to answer each question.' The lead examiner spoke with his hands resting on the top of his makeshift tray-table belly.\n\nThe exam started, the projector switched from the clock to the first question. \"1/3 of 100 is what? To three d.p'. The tablets all shifted into their segmented colour and shape choice options. But before any student could enter their answer, through cheating or genuine knowledge, the projector and tablets froze.\n\nThuds of frustrated and panicked fingers started vibrating through the hall. A few brave hands shot up. The screens flashed. A black screen with a blinking cursor replaced the question and answer screens. Letters appeared one after another as a sentence formed.\n\n\"Technology will rot the minds of those we teach.\"\n\nThe words burned into the eyes of every student in the nation.\n\n---\n\n/r/WrittenThought \n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WrittenThought/comments/9fkjz1/starting_young_part_2/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,329	11,168	0.274345	2,295	[ { "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 trial for attempting to assassinate the King. Unknown to anyone but you and His Majesty, you were actually trying to stop him from killing himself. When you request a trial by combat, he ceremoniously accepts. Your opponent? The King himself.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Knight Bonvil, you stand accused of attempted regicide. As a member of the Golden Order, it is your prerogative to determine the method of trial. Choose: law or combat.\" Inquisitor Mallan glowered from his perch behind the Judging Table, his wrinkled face scrunched with disdain.\n\n\"I made no attempt on the King's life. I am sworn.\" Bonvil called out, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. The nobles whispered amongst themselves. The facts were not in dispute. Knight Varis Bonvil had been caught atop the parapet, his hand grasping the King's robes as he dangled over the edge.\n\nRegicide. To even contemplate such a thing was to blaspheme against God's law. For it to be done by a member of the Golden Order was the darkest sacrilege.\n\n\"Law or combat Ser.\" Mallen called out.\n\n\"I choose combat. My sword will show the truth of my words.\" Knight Bonvil replied, the powerful muscles of his forearms flexing against the cuffs holding his hands behind his back.\n\n\"By combat. Very well.\" The Inquisitor began scribbling on the parchment in front of him. \"The Crown may designate a champion to stand for the King.\" Mallen turned and bowed to the King, seated on the throne behind him.\n\nKing Galcon's eyes shifted from the Inquisitor to Bonvil. The silence stretched. Finally, rising from his throne, he spoke, \"I will stand.\"\n\nAn uproar ensued as the nobles tried to make sense of it. King Galcon was old and infirm. He was in no position to battle a Knight of the Golden Order. It made no sense.\n\nInquisitor Mallen raised his hands, causing some calm to be restored, \"Your Majesty, surely you may choose another\\-\\-\"\n\nKing Galcon cut him off, \"\\-\\-I may choose whomever I desire.\"\n\nBonvil hung his head, trying to sort out the meaning of it. The King had gone mad. He had served Galcon his entire life, why was he being tested so? Proving himself innocent would require Bonvil to be guilty of the crime he stood accused of. Was there to be no other option? Must one of them die?\n\nA soldier stepped forward and freed Bonvil's hands. A moment later he was handed his family's sword. It felt good to hold Veritas in his hands again. A small comfort in a deeply unsettling moment. Swiping it through the air, he turned to face King Galcon. The King removed his royal regalia, leaving him standing in a plain tunic. He pulled his sword from its scabbard, the weight unbalancing him slightly.\n\n\"The trial of Knight Bonvil is to be decided. May the light of God show the truth of this matter.\" Inquisitor Mallen called out as the crowd watched in silence. Never in the long history of Pherelia had such a thing occurred. The King always designated a champion.\n\nKing Galcon took in the crowd and then looked at Bonvil, a sadness to his eyes. Moments later, the start of the match was called out. Varis raised the tip of Veritas, falling into a defense stance. The King stood for a moment, quietly regarding Bonvil before charging forward, sword raised.\n\nAs the sword came down, Bonvil raised Veritas to meet it, catching it on the hilt and bringing the King close to him. It was the first opportunity Bonvil had to speak with him since the night on the parapet. \"Your Majesty, why?\"\n\nKing Galcon gave a faint smile and then took a step back before re\\-engaging. Bonvil twirled out of the way, letting the King's sword strike the stones where he had stood. Even trained as he was, the King was no warrior. The fight continued with the King making progressively wilder swings, trying to goad Bonvil into a counter attack.\n\nBut there was no provoking the knight. He was of the Golden Order.\n\n\"I will not harm you Your Majesty. I have sworn,\" Bonvil said.\n\nKing Galcon's breath was coming in ragged heaves, \"What have you sworn to protect?\"\n\n\"The Kingdom.\"\n\n\"I am not the Kingdom.\"\n\n\"You are its King,\" Bonvil replied.\n\nKing Galcon attacked again, coming in close. \"You can protect the King or protect the Kingdom, you must choose, Bonvil,\" he whispered.\n\n\"Why? Why must I choose?\"\n\n\"Because you stole the choice from me.\"\n\n\"I saved your life.\"\n\n\"And doomed the rest.\" King Galcon's eyes met Bonvil's, \"I have done terrible things Varis. The retribution approaches.\"\n\n\"The Golden Order stands. We can protect the kingdom. Protect you.\"\n\n\"No,\" King Galcon's hand lashed out from the hilt of his weapon, laying hold of Veritas and pulling it down on himself, impaling the blade in his chest. \"You can't.\"\n\nPart 2\n\nCrimson poured over Bonvil's hands as the King exhaled his last wet rasps. Galcon's head tilted forward as he sank to his knees, pulling the blood\\-soaked Veritas down with him. Bonvil could feel the weapon react to the kill, a surge flowing up into his arm, filling him with a sense of righteousness. The act was just. The knowledge changed little in the face of the deed itself.\n\nThe King was dead.\n\nThe chamber sat is stunned silence as they watched the king fall. Then murmurs. Then shouts. The battle of succession commenced before the King's body had cooled. Galcon was the last of his line, leaving the throne empty. Nobles from the great houses staked their claim while the lesser houses made quick calculations on where their loyalties rested. Each sought to maximize their upside, to gain from the pool of blood slowly spreading across the floor.\n\nAll except Knight Bonvil.\n\nHe stared at the blade, trying to make sense of the surge and the King's words. What had he done? Why did Galcon have to die to protect the kingdom? Why was this just?\n\nHe must find the truth. He was sworn.\n\n\"Seize the Kingslayer!\" Inquisitor Mallen's voice rang out over the din of the chamber. The nobles turned to look at Bonvil as the soldiers lowered their halberds and began to advance on Bonvil. Each tried to fathom where the greatest advantage lay.\n\nThe tinder was ready, but it was house Che'Kov that ignited the flame.\n\n\"House Che'Kov lays claim to the Kingslayer! We shall bring him to the God's Justice!\" High Lord Farren Che'Kov pulled his sword as he spoke. The gambit cast, and the other great houses were forced to respond. None could risk the allowing Che'Kov to gain the moral high ground.\n\nEach of the High Lords pulled their own swords, shouting their claim to the Kingslayer. House Che'Lav. House Che'Ris. House Che'Yel. As each blade unsheathed, the blades of their vassals quickly followed, emanating out like ripples in a pond. Whenever the ripples of opposing lords collided, skirmishes developed. Soon the entire chamber was engulfed as the High Lords sought to settle the succession right there. The Kingslayer was a treat, but the prize was in reach.\n\nBonvil watched as the soldiers approached as the chaos spread in the background. \"Stand back.\" He flicked Veritas, sending a splatter of blood in an arc along the ground between him and the soldiers. A few of the younger men flinched and took a small step back. The more seasoned veterans continued forward, their eyes set on the grim task. Bonvil tightened his grip on Veritas' pommel and glance between the soldiers and the king.\n\nThe kingdom hung on the precipice of the abyss. If the path to the Kingdom's salvation lay in Galcon's death, then Bonvil did not see how. If retribution was at hand, then they would need unity.\n\nKnight Bonvil of the Golden Order knelt down and pulled the crown from Galcon's head. Coming to a stand, he placed the crown on his head, Veritas still upraised in his other hand. A gruesome coronation.\n\nTurning to face the soldiers once more he settled into a fighting stance. \"I am sworn.\"\n\nYOU CAN FIND [PART 3 HERE](https://www.reddit.com/r/PerilousPlatypus/comments/8i8hwg/story_continuation_veritas_part_3/).\n\nPlatypus out.\n\nWant more peril? r/PerilousPlatypus", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
840	11,153	0.027747	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": " Every year, the Mars Curiosoty Rover sings itself happy birthday. You are a NASA technician that typically monitors its system. Today, you heard a small, quiet voice singing along with it.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Can’t believe it’s a Sunday and I have to come in to work to monitor this stupid dust storm.” I said to the empty control room. \n\nAs I sat down with my cup of coffee and booted up the screen, the Curiosity Rover began its little birthday song, which did cheer me up a bit.\n\n“Happy birthday Curiosity” I said to it, then went back to my papers, but just then I heard something else, something that definitely wasn’t the rover.\n\n“Happy birthday Curiosityyyyy, happy birthday to you!” It sounded like a child’s voice.\n\nI immediately scrambled for the controls and turned the camera toward the sound, and went completely slack jawed at what sight greeted me. It looked like a typical human child except for the fact that it’s skin was red, it had a small antenna poking out of its forehead, hair as white as snow, and black eyes dotted with white that looked like the night sky without light pollution. Three fingers and a thumb on each hand, with same amount of toes on each foot. It was clothed in some blue material that contrasted brightly with its skin. \n\nAs soon as I came back to my senses I hit the record button on the control panel and went up and down the Martian child again, who let out a squeal of what sounded like excitement as the rover started being more active was now inspecting it curiously, and saying things in what must have been its language. I called the head scientists via Skype because I knew they wouldn’t believe me if I just said it over the phone who quickly hung up to get ready. \n\n“I just discovered alien life” I said in awe as I sat back down in my chair. \n\nWho would’ve known that working on a weekend could make history?\n\n\n————————\n\nHey, I’m u/haloryder, I don’t have a sub and don’t post here often but if there’s interest I’ll continue the story. I welcome any and all constructive criticism.\n\nEdit: part 2 is in progress and will be a reply to this comment I will reply with a comment notification to those that have replied to this to notify when it is up. \n\nEdit 2: parts 2, 3, and 4 are out\n\nEdit 3: I have a subreddit now! r/HaloRyder \n\nThe whole story will be up in a post on there momentarily", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,663	11,143	0.047113	2,150	[ { "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 fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "An ancient fortuneteller, with a crooked and hunched body, possibly born more than two centuries ago came to them in the night. And using many ancient runes, and old sigils, she foretold the inevitable future, of the children born from the woman. One would be evil the other would be good. And when the two children were born, it seemed to them obvious which child was which. One was a scrawny and small boy, with leathery bat-like wings, dark red pupils, a head of ebony hair, and small goat horns protruding from his forehead. The other was beautiful, born with long platinum hair, gentle golden pupils, a small odd golden halo floating above her head. And snow-white feathery wings on her back.\n\nAt first they wanted to slay the boy, but even then, they could not bring themselves to end the life of a newborn babe. Instead, they sold the boy to a travelling merchant, and kept the girl. In this, they considered themselves wise, and lucky. Lucky that they had been warned, and that the signs had been so obvious. They praised their little girl to the village, where she became the luck of the people there, the mascot of the village. Beloved by all.\n\nThe boy was taken away, fed on goat's milk and the merchant did not return to that village. The girl was raised with all the love and attention that such as she could get. Treated with reverence and love, she lacked for nothing. And yet, while the adults of the village saw nothing, the other children, they started to notice something was off. Accidents happened. Older villagers died. Many children found that strangely, when the girl with the angel wings pushed them, or punched them, the adults never believed them. She tormented them, killing their pets, stealing their treats, and whenever they tried to retaliate, they were ruthlessly punished by their parents.\n\nThe boy grew up in far away lands, where beings like him, supernaturally changed, were more normal. The merchant who had brought him, sold him again when he was but two, to a kindly old herbalist, who needed a young pair of eyes to help her make her potions. She taught him about kindness, about reason, about the importance of using the knowledge of herbs, alchemy, and some mild magic, to cure the ill, and help the needy.\n\nAs the girl grew up, she became haughty. The priests of the faith proclaimed her an angel, and gifted her with many fine things. Scented perfumes, fine necklaces, beautiful rings. Silk dresses, and fine tunics. Knights came to ask for her hand in marriage when she became of age. But she spurned them all. And she was still cruel. The other children in the village, having grown up with her, distrusted her. Feared her even. More than one of them had seen her true face, and among themselves whispered that the wrong child had been sent away.\n\nThe boy with the horns, eventually had to take over the shop, as the old herbalist became too weak. He tended the shop, made the potions, with the careful instruction of his weakened adoptive mother, and became known as a kind and friendly young man. He was known to be helpful, and affable. And he became great in the art of healing. While having demonic features made some people wary, his warm red eyes, his open smile, generous nature, and his free laughter, eventually penetrated the paranoia of all but the most odd of people.\n\nThe girl, with her angelic traits, was eventually courted by the crown prince of the kingdom she lived in, and that proposal of marriage, she accepted. Her marriage was garish, and ostentatious. While the power as crown princess was great, she wanted to become more. She aimed for the highest of powers, and using her charm, she managed to get close enough to the king, that she could kill him. When her husband inherited the throne, she used a carefully maintained spell to render him feeble and unable to rule. Then she took the title of regent, ruling in her poor husband's stead. And she did not rule with angelic grace, or kindness. She raised taxes, reintroduced serfdom to many who had been freed, and bore monstrous children. None were trueborn, but whoever dared to point that out, lost their head, and the executioner's work was never done. They had to hire several underlings for him to aid with executing those that conspired against the ruling queen, those that no longer amused her, and those that she just wanted to see die for the sheer thrill of controlling life and death.\n\nThe boy took over his adoptive mother's store after her death, burying her, and visiting her grave once a week. One of the people like him, those with odd traits that lived in the city he did, a girl with a mouse's tail and a tapered nose, with cute whiskers wriggling in the air, asked him on a date. They ate together at the inn, and walked in the moonlight together. He wasn't a muscular man, but as he grew his once scrawny body had filled out to a lean and agile thing, and he was quite the tall fellow, a veritable beanpole. They dated for a while, and eventually, the boy asked the mousy girl to marry him. It was a humble and small affair. Shortly after they moved in together, in the old house of the herbalist, the mousy girl grew in size. A girl first, then a son, and then another daughter. Soon the sound of happy, laughing children could be heard in the house. It was a home, the two of them working together, keeping the herbal garden, making medicine together, raising beautiful children, with mousetails and batwings.\n\nThe angelic girl had changed. No longer did her golden eyes seem pure, but seemed tainted as they moved from side to side in evil paranoid thought. Her platinum hair was falling out, and her wings barely had any feathers on them. Her halo, floating above her head, no longer gleamed with pure light, but only barely shone, like the last few embers in the fireplace. That was how the army of peasants, rising up, found her. As she had ripped out the throat of her husband, the poor king, only a few moments before. Wielding a long thin blade, she charged the emaciated peasants with a horrible laugh. And though she killed many with blade and spell, she was eventually skewered on an old pitchfork. The kingdom, broken, ruined, and infested with the monstrous children she had birthed, could finally rebuild. But it would be a long time before that land was as good as it had once been.\n\nThe boy heard only little about this, being hundreds of miles away. He never did learn that this evil queen, so pure in visage, but so vile in nature, was his own sister. He lived a good long life, curing the ill, aiding those in need, earning good money on his business, and after many years, he grew old. He saw his children married, teaching them each the trade, the eldest child took over the handling of the shop, while the other two moved to other cities, each carrying with them a book that the demon-seeming boy had written, about the herbs of the land, their uses, and recipes for healthy potions and tinctures of vitality. When he died, he was lying in bed, surrounded by his family. His old wife, mousy and sweet, holding his hands. While his children, all three of them showing signs of ageing, stood at the end of his bed. Around him were many grandchildren. And in his hands, he held his first great-grandson. He spoke of how blessed his life had been, how he wanted his family not to mourn, but to know that he loved them. And that his life had been worth living.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)\n\nPst, little spin-off story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/comments/ggo44x/a_healing_hand_to_the_ruined_kingdom_came/?)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,417	11,142	0.027227	988	[ { "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": " Long after humans found other sentient races, aliens begin to research the history of humanity. They do not realize humans write fictional stories along with history books, and they are understandably terrified.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The High General intertwined his twenty fingers. He knew he should be keeping a neutral expression, especially while surrounded by his war council, but his lieutenants looked terrified. Backs hunched, eye stems tucked low in fear and trepidation.\n\nThe General had to admit, he didn't blame them. Not after what they'd just heard.\n\n\"Researcher,\" he began. \"Our scouts report nothing more hostile than projectile weapons and low-level atomic devices. They haven't even harnessed plasma or black matter for their defenses yet. And we've seen no sign of these... what did you call them?\"\n\nThe lead scientist of the fleet was an old man -- the dimming glow from his plasma veins indicated he didn't have much longer on this plane. But he was respected and invaluable to the Armada, as he had played an essential role in their conquests over the last three centuries.\n\nSo the General did not dismiss his Researcher's fear. \"What you say is true,\" started the old man, \"which is precisely why I've made my recommendation. These 'Heroes', we call them, only show up when threatened. They allow their governments defenses to take care of themselves when possible, but if a clearly overwhelming force arrives, they could decimate us in a matter of hours.\"\n\n\"It's not possible,\" said a lieutenant, voice shaking from the side of the room.\n\n\"It is,\" replied the Researcher firmly, his underlings nodding vigorously behind him. \"There is an ancient breed of women with extraordinary powers, hidden on an island. A scientist who can turn into a invincible green monster when angry. One man so clever, he regularly outwits their God of the Underworld.\"\n\nEye stalks shuddered around the room as the Researcher continued forcefully: \"There's an entire subspecies that wield power through the use of thin lengths of wood. In the northwest region of their American province, a race of nocturnal blood lusting creatures wages eternal war with humans that can shift to terrible canine form at will. Some children on this planet, who live together in a hidden camp, even claim the power of their parental Gods!\"\n\nOne lieutenant whimpered loudly with fear. Another looked as though she were about to faint. The High General tried to keep a stern expression, but even he was struggling to keep his composure.\n\n\"But most damningly,\" cried the Researcher, voice ringing with passion, \"there is the Mystery Machine. Young researchers, led by a four-legged brown beast, who have never met a deception they could not unravel. They likely already know we're on our way!\"\n\nEvery eye was on the General now. He was known to be a proud Hrong'th, never one to back down from a fight. But even he knew what must be done.\n\n\"The situation is hopeless. Turn the Armada around, set a course for another civilization and advise the home council to never, under any circumstances, return to Earth again.\"\n\n\\--------------------\n\n148/365\n\none story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)\n\n\\---------------------\n\nlate edit: geography is hard", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,563	11,138	0.097742	874	[ { "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 time they say long live the queen it extends the queens life.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "How does one feel as one is rejuvenated? It feels, I would say, quite like being licked by a corgi puppy. Yes, it feels as if one is laying on one's bed in one's private chamber, with the morning's early light peering through the curtains, striking the oily portraits of Edward IV, George III and Victoria, until it stirs the corgi puppies from their respite and those tiny darling creatures hop right up on one's bed and lick one's hand or neck. It is quite a joyful feeling, and, dare I say, an invigorating feeling. I do not know there is any other feeling on earth that quite compares to it.\n\nI confess I do not know quite for certain how it works, but nor do any of our top minds in the natural sciences or medicine or spirituality for that matter. I do suspect, however, that because the Queen of England is chosen by God himself, then for this reason, prayers in the name of the Queen of England are afforded great priority by the various angels and saints responsible for the effecting of prayer. So, when my subjects beseech that I live on and on and on, well, then I simply do. \n\nCertainly I am not one to complain about being afforded such a grand gift as the hope of immortality. Mortality is itself a curse, indeed, but immortality is in its own way a curse as well, since one who is immortal will in no sense ever measure one's achievements. But the hope of immortality is a splendid compromise because each year that I persist is an achievement I have earned and curated and in which I can take immeasurable pride. \n\nSo, though I am not one to complain, I do wish that there was not the need for such subterfuge about it all. The daily routine of makeup and wigs is quite tiresome. Furthermore, a woman and queen such as I should not be forced to hide the youth and beauty of her countenance from her public. Though, I suppose it would be a cause of great alarm, were the people to see how I am not only alive, but perfectly preserved and vibrant. As I said, immortality with no costs is quite dreary, so I am gladdened by the challenge.\n\nWhat I am not gladdened by, however, is some young cunt thinking she can come into my bleeding palace and snatch away my affection from my subjects. A few too many \"Long live Princess Diana's\" there were. A few too many indeed. So, she had to go. And go she did. Right buggered off.\n\nI do so enjoy Katherine though. So lovely and so dear. I very much hope she minds her place in my monarchy and I very much hope my subjects do not become, dare I say, overzealous in their blessings upon her.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,738	11,136	0.074205	1,552	[ { "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 long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It's quite hard to kill a god. And believe me, they tried. Long ago, I had to watch as my followers were sacrificed in someone else's name, while my temples were defaced and the surrounding cities were razed.\n\nMy name was forgotten.\n\nMy lands were eventually reclaimed by the earth.\n\nAnd I took refuge in my only remaining temple, sharing my company with a tiny stone idol of myself, sleeping the centuries away, dreaming of my once sprawling cities and devoted followers.\n\nAll at once, I felt it. Light penetrated my long-faded eyes and the sound of soft voices resonated throughout my meager home. \n\n\"Cin-dee, what are you doing?\" Lisped a shrill voice.\n\nI drifted around the corner, peeking into the antechamber for a hint of who had brought me back to the living world. \n\nA pair of children. Their tiny toothless smiles at the center of round, chubby faces. One was a boy with close-cropped red hair and dull brown eyes. The blue shirt he wore said \"Conrad\" in script I did not recognize, but understood all the same. \n\nThen there was the girl. Cindy, the boy had said. Curly brown hair and green eyes that shone brightly with stars behind them. She stood before my altar, brushing the layers of dust and dried grass to the ground. An act which, unknown to her, granted me presence in the cramped space.\n\n\"My mom says we can't eat on a dirty table. We just can't. Same goes for Mr. Dancer.\" She said pointing to my idol, whose long legs crossed about one another like that of a stage dancer.\n\n\"But Ms. Baker told us not to come in here. We're gonna get in trouble.\"\n\n\"Then go away, Conrad. That way you don't have to deal with it.\" Cindy said, brushing more of the debris from my altar.\n\nConrad flustered for a moment before settling on an answer that satisfied him \"But I gotta stay so you don't get hurt.\" He said, using the particular brand of logic that only children understood.\n\nCindy, now finished with her task of cleaning my altar, turned to Conrad and held out a hand expectantly. \"Gimme a piece.\"\n\n\"W-what?\"\n\nShe tilted her head and gave a withering, you-know-what-I-mean look. She then flexed her fingers and commanded \"Give it.'\n\nConrad flustered again for a second \"B-but those are supposed to last the whole trip.\"\n\n\"Then give me one of the strawberry ones. I'm the only one that eats those anyhow.\"\n\nThey stood there for a second, Conrad trying to make his best pleading look while Cindy simply pursed her lips and tapped her foot expectantly. If they could have heard me in that instant, they would have heard only laughter. \n\nConrad eventually gave in and shoved a tiny wrapped candy into her waiting hand. She promptly turned around and placed the candy into the small depression on my altar which once held a gold offering plate. And just like that, I could feel again. Within my temple, the cool air and damp stones were once again mine to cherish.\n\nShe looked briefly at my idol with a toothless, cherub-like grin. \"I hope you like it. Strawberry's my favorite, and I hope it's yours too.\" Then she turned on her heel and strode out of my home with Conrad in tow.\n\nA few days passed, and I had savored the offering with satisfaction. A tiny offering from a tiny child to a tiny god. When what little power her gift had imbued me with faded, I would have something new to dream of. Something happy, not sad. It was more than I deserved, really.\n\nThat was, however, until I felt myself grow a bit more solid and a new location filled the space of my mind. With a hint of glee, I transported to the new location in an instant, my thoughts racing. \n\nThe room was brightly lit, filled with the gentle hum of electric lights. Brightly colored pictures, rugs, chairs, and tables littered the room. And there I saw Cindy holding up a colored pencil sketch of me before an audience of children. Children and one adult, of course.\n\nThe sketch was crude, some features of mine, such as my long and twisting legs, were exaggerated, but it was me all the same.\n\n\"This is Mr. Dancer. He lives in the house in the field.\"\n\nA hand shot up. \"Was he nice.\"\n\nCindy's smile grew. \"He was very nice.\"\n\nAnd so it was.\n\nAnother hand. \"He looks strong.\"\n\n\"He is.\"\n\nAnd so it was.\n\nConrad's hand shot up. \"Tell them about the candy.\"\n\nCindy shot Conrad another withering look. \"I gave him a piece of strawberry candy, and he said it was his most favorite thing to eat. The end.\"\n\nAnd so it was.\n\nThe teacher, who had believed this story to be the result of a child's imagination, simply patted Cindy on the head and pinned her drawing to a cork board. Cindy then asked that a piece of Strawberry candy be pinned up with it, and so it was.\n\nAnd so, with an idol and an offering, I was given a new temple. A new temple, a new name, and a new priestess to create and share my stories. Stories of a kind and powerful god who likes strawberries. \n\nI could live with that.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,958	11,128	0.023684	1,367	[ { "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 cleaner for a famous assassin. You just found out it is your spouse. This infuriates you not because of the secrets or killing, but because you've been cleaning up after your spouse at home and at their work all this time.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Henry sat down in his chair and waited for his wife, Cassie to come home from her \"business meeting\". He was not waiting for long. He heard the sound of her car pulling into the driveway, and the woman herself entering the house.\n\n\"I'm home.\" She called. \"Sorry it took so long. You would not believe the things they kept us for. They wanted to discuss who was in charge of the mini donuts. Mini donuts! And for that, they kept us thirty minutes longer than they said they would. Ridiculous.\"\n\n\"I bet it was.\" He knew she was lying. Why wouldn't she? It was practically assumed at this point. \"Honey, can you come in here? I want to talk to you about something.\"\n\n\"Hm? What's up?\" Cassie asked as she entered the living room. She took in his grim countenance and her eyes darkened. \"Is there something wrong?\"\n\nThe woman moved with almost feline grace, even in her own home. It was a estimate to the lean, fit build she had cultivated over the years. Henry swore she had steel cables under her skin. He watched her move and sit.\n\n\"I would say so.\" He said. \"I found something while cleaning today.\"\n\nHe reached down and pulled out a file Cassie had meticulously hidden in their bedroom. Their own bedroom! It was insane to think she thought he would never find it. He plopped it down on the coffee table between them.\n\nHer eyes remained impassive, but he saw a subtle shift in her posture. Her right hand began slowly and casually moving towards her belt.\n\n\"What's this?\" She asked. Had he not known any better, he would have sworn she was being sincere. \n\n\"Assassination orders.\" He said bluntly. \"And the person carrying them out. One very wanted killer named Willow. That's you, right?\"\n\n\"Me? An assassin? Really? Come on Henry, be real.\"\n\n\"I found others, you know. More hints that you're Willow. Is it true? Are you Willow?\"\n\nHe face hardened. \"And what if I am?\" He hand moved just a tiny bit faster.\n\n\"I think I'd have to be very upset with you. I mean, really, can you blame me?\"\n\n\"No, I suppose I can't.\"\n\n\"Of course you realize things will have to change, right? I mean, now that I know.\"\n\n\"That's only if you're right. Come on, you don't really believe I'm some world class contract killer, right? Please, please tell me you don't really think that.\"\n\n\"The evidence is pretty strong.\"\n\n\"Damn it, Henry.\" Her hand began moving towards whatever hidden weapon she had.\n\n\"We'll have to discuss our chore distribution, you know.\" he said.\n\nHer hand froze. \"What?\"\n\n\"I mean, really. I know we worked out all that stuff when we got married, but I didn't know what you do then. I volunteered to do the cleaning at home, not at work and home. I mean, really, that's hardly fair, is it?\"\n\nCassie took her hand away from her belt and looked at him with real confusion. \"I...what?\"\n\n\"I spend damned near all day cleaning up after you at work, I shouldn't have to do it at home to, that's all I'm saying.\"\n\nShe blinked a few times a realization came to her. \"Wait, are you saying that you're The Handyman?\"\n\n\"Well, obviously. And we need to talk about this. It's important to our marriage, you know.\"\n\nCassie visibly relaxed. \"Oh, yeah, sure, of course. And...all you wanted to talk about is the cleaning schedule?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah. What did you think I wanted to talk about?\"\n\n\"Well, I would've thought finding out I'm an assassin would put a damper on our marriage. I swear I was ready to kill you.\"\n\n\"Oh, hell no. i don't care about that. I mean, really, secrets are part of the job. I just want some fairness in our home life.\"\n\n\"Okay, I think I can handle that. But it might have to wait. Pretty sure you're about to get a call.\"\n\nHenry sighed. \"Right. Is it really messy?\"\n\n\"Not really. This was an easy one.\"\n\n\"Oh, good. But this conversation does need to happen, you know.\" He said, just as his special phone line started ringing. \n\n\"I'll think about the new schedule. Now get going Handyman.\"\n\nHenry nodded and answered the phone. Cassie had just come home from finishing her job. Now it was time for him to head out for his.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,662	11,125	0.025313	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": " There are 10 legendary dentists who review every toothpaste. You are the 10th, the denier, the rejector of every 10/10. You are being hunted by the other 9 for your denial.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Damn it, Todd, Just say it’s a good brand of toothpaste. It cures cavities and repairs teeth. What could you possibly have against the toothpaste?”\n\n“It’s too good! It’s taking away all my business.”\n\nTodd was unable to run. Tied down to the surgical chair, a bright light blasting his face with its warm glow. He had tried to run, tried to keep his identity hidden, but they were persistent. An apple a day might keep the doctor away. But what will keep the humble dentist at bay?\n\n“Todd buddy, they are offering us a nice payout. Bill got over fifty million for endorsing this stuff, I got eighty million. Think how much money you could milk them for. They need the sacred ten out of ten rating. A rating that no brand has ever achieved. If you are the one to deliver that result, think how much they will owe you.” \n\nDennis tried to convince Todd, desperate to close the deal. He had already closed up his dental clinic, certain that no one would be foolish enough to not take the money. Who would turn down free money? He was being offered a meal ticket for life. All he had to do was give a stupid endorsement. \n\n“Never, we took an oath. An oath to always be the worst place someone has to visit. I didn’t spend the last ten years of my life creating a sterile hell only to quit.”\n\nDennis clicked his tongue against the back of his mouth, walking around the chair. His hands stopped just above Todd’s neck. His head hovering above Todd’s, blue polypropylene mask in view, his brows pointed in visible annoyance.\n\n“So what? You are too good for us? Too much of a conventional dentist? We deserve to be happy too, Todd. Think about this rationally, its more money than you will make in six lifetimes.”\n\n“I refuse, This is my livelihood.”\n\n“You sicken me. Do you think you are the saint of dental work or something? We are just trying to live. Some of us have families that need five-course dinners. Do you want me to go home and tell my wife we can only have three courses for dinner? Are you that sick? Why do you do this Todd, why keep running from us?”\n\n“I love hurting people. Why did any of us do this job? Because we love that look of fear when someone sees us approaching. How we pretend to ‘accidentally’ poke their gums. I refuse to give that up.”\n\nDennis sighed, shaking his head. He reached down, tapping a small metallic container, picking up a drill. He brought the dental drill towards his face, examining the drillbit. Pulling the small drillbit off, he replaced it with one that rivalled the size of his thumb, bringing it towards Todd’s mouth.\n\n“Well, let’s see if you change your tune after a few teeth get drilled. Don’t worry, I’ll repair them once you give up, for a price of course. Now say ah.”\n\nTodd had been in this situation before. Shaking his body, he rocked his head back, hitting the light, forcing it to drop. Its glow shining at Dennis, blinding him. The drill dropped, landing on his shoulder. Giving his shoulder a few shrugs, he maneuvered the drill down until it was drilling into the rope slicing through it. Todd was quick to his feet, delivering a hearty elbow to the jaw of the distracted dentist, watching him topple to the floor. \n\nAs Dennis withered in pain, blood dripping from his mouth. Todd wandered around the room, snatching up a roll of dental floss, tossing it onto Dennis. \n\n“Don’t forget to floss.” He uttered, exiting the clinic, ready to return to his hiding.\n\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n\n(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,672	11,124	0.03286	1,820	[ { "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 finally get men to Mars and discover an old Soviet flag there. The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason didn’t say anything.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Maia, this is Hermes, over,\" I said over the radio, ensuring in spite of my excitement to keep using the approved name protocols. The radio crackled to life and I heard Elliot's voice coming through. He was thrilled. We all were.\n\n\"Hermes, we have you loud and clear. What do you have?\" The trip to Mars had been bumpy - not ours specifically but the entire Atlas project as a whole. The Electra trip had failed, the crew lost to the empty void of space. Merope had exploded during our ascent. Taygete was aborted before launch, the whole thing becoming a media scandal as tax-payer money continued to be wasted with those futile efforts. We were the only ones to have gotten this far; Maia had landed gently on the red planet, coming to a rest just a few dozen yards from the Voltaire crater, exactly as planned. I knew Sam would be right behind me. Everything had gone smoothly. I had suited up and the doors had fizzed open and then I was setting foot on the red planet, the first human to set foot on another planet since we last touched the moon, 75 years ago to the day.\n\nI hesitated. I knew we were being broadcast around the world, seizing the attention of billions like the Apollo missions had done just a few generations ago. I had said those magic words, quoting Neil Armstrong and adding my own little twist about the new frontier of interplanetary travel we had finally breached. I had switched to a private channel now. \n\n\"There's a flag, over,\" I said simply and then I waited. The response came back a bit slower than I would have liked and I wondered what they were discussing. The safety of the mothership seemed agonizingly far away now. I was almost at the edge of the crater now and had been skipping along without worry and feeling as light as ever when I spotted the distant anomaly, a man-made object in this untouched world. Nature didn't make lines like that, not just jutting out of a lifeless planet. \n\nA chuckle came over the radio, startling me. \"Funny, Hermes. Let's keep the chitchat to a minimum.\" I glanced back to the craft. Sam was bouncing my way and I could see her face beaming behind her helmet. Man and woman, setting foot on Mars together. My hands were clammy and I felt nauseous and out of habit checked my oxygen tank. Everything was in order. This wasn't an air intake issue. Sam was next to me now. I pointed at the flag that hung limply and for a moment she looked at me as if it was some twisted joke and then the smile vanished from her face and her eyes turned into a cold and meticulous void.\n\n\"Artemis here,\" she said carefully over the secure channel. \"Confirming the flag. Requesting immediate extraction.\" I gasped in spite of myself. We had set foot on Mars. By all indicators, this would be a massive success. But the mission wasn't nearly over. We couldn't leave now. We would be ridiculed back in the office.\n\n\"Vetoed,\" I snapped and she glared at me.\n\n\"There's a flag,\" she confirmed and this time the response from Maia was even slower. I knew they had received the message. They were talking, discussing how to approach this without including us in the conversation.\n\n\"Hang tight, guys,\" I heard Elliot command. \"We're connecting with Atlas over here, transmissions may be delayed. Please keep the line clear.\" We were next to the flag now, the discolored piece of fabric hanging motionless in the windless atmosphere. I reached out my hand to touch it but Sam slapped it down. That was a solid no-go.\n\n\"Did the Russians beat us up here?\" I joked. Nobody laughed. Nobody answered. If anybody beat us up here and they didn't share it, there must have been a reason. I glanced back at Sam. She was distracted, looking out over the horizon for either comfort or some indication of our fate. I touched the flag, unfurling it and barely making out a faded hammer and sickle. \"The Soviets got here first,\" I murmured. She whipped back towards me, her eyes blazing like the fiery sun.\n\n\"Can you repeat that, over?\" I heard Elliot ask. He hadn't misheard me. He was just confirming.\n\n\"There's a Soviet flag. On Mars.\"\n\nThe radio snapped to life again and I heard Elliot's voice, this time less relaxed than I had ever heard him. \"This is Maia,\" he said, stumbling over his words. \"We are ordered to exit immediately.\" I glanced back at the spacecraft. It was too soon to leave. We had traveled over a hundred million miles just to run from the unknown just after landing? Elliot had to be as reluctant as me. \"Over,\" he finished, as if just then remembering the proper protocol.\n\n\"Maia, requesting reconsideration,\" I said pleadingly. We had just arrived after an ordeal that spanned years. To be torn away from it now was agonizing. I had trained my whole life for this.\n\n\"Rejected. Atlas orders your immediate return.\" I shrugged. Orders were orders. If it was just Elliot telling me to go back, I might have ignored him. If I ignored the Atlas headquarters, my career was good as over. But if we went back now, we might never come back and that didn't seem like an option I could stomach either.\n\n\"Copy that,\" I answered dejectedly. \"Artemis, do you copy?\" I turned back to where Sam had just stood. There was nothing there but the red sand and the seemingly endless mountains of Mars. The loneliness was overwhelming. I felt faint. The cold sweats were very much real now, beading down my back. \"Maia, I have lost visual with Artemis. Requesting immediate assistance.\" I could almost imagine the organized chaos inside the spacecraft. We had trained for this type of event, ordered to throw it into the mix along with normal operating procedures as we prepared in the sterile Earth environment. Sometimes I was making the call, sometimes Elliot would call to me as I sat at the controls. It doesn't matter how many times you run it. When it really happens, it's hard to keep calm. My voice shook as I made my report.\n\n\"Confirming request,\" I heard him say. \"Lost visuals seconded.\" Fuck. Neither of us could see her. The weather was spotless, no dust storm or anything interrupting my line of sight. I snapped into motion, following her footsteps towards where she had wandered. They changed abruptly into elongated gashes as if she had been dragged off by the darkness and had planted her feet in futile resistance, disappearing into the lonely expanse.\n\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" } ]
1,849	11,110	0.164591	1,213	[ { "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": " Pennywise is feeling a little bored during the holidays, seeing how kids don’t venture outside during blizzards. He decides to pick out a house at random and pick a child living in it. Unluckily for him, Kevin McCallister hates clowns and will do all he can to stop his attacker.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Why does this always happen to me?\" Kevin McCallister of Winnetka, Illinois was oh so sick of this shit. It's almost as if God just hates him and wants to watch him suffer, but with the time he's had away from his family, he's become prepared for anything. Almost anything. Not this. Anything but this.\n\nOnce again, Kevin's family has completely disregarded him, now on the other side of the country laughing and enjoying themselves. He was a ghost to them, but he was used to this abuse by now. He knew he was an unwanted child; a mistake. The wall was already built. Justice had been served several times and he was the judge, jury, and executioner.\n\nAs he peered out the window, waiting for their return, he saw it. He'd always hated clowns, but this one was especially terrifying. It had an energy about it, unlike the previous clown who was a funny guy, just there to amuse him. No, this thing was out in the open, hiding a grin behind a group of balloons. You'd expect that to seem inviting, but it was nothing of the sort. It was coming for him. Kevin's adrenaline shot up, and he returned the grin.\n\n\"Fuck you, mom.\" He ran back into the basement, mixed emotions, and grabbed a shovel, two bananas for sustenance, a rope, a white paint bucket, and a double-barreled shotgun, loaded. Oh, he was ready alright. Like second nature, the adrenaline aided him in rigging up a monster, elaborate enough to take down a clown. Just then he heard a knock at the door, then a bang. Another one. Louder, the banging grew until it suddenly stopped.\n\nKevin sat patiently in front of the roaring fireplace, eyeing down the barrel of his shotgun. Dust travelled down into the fire and his grip tightened. Like death, it came crashing down into the fire. Kevin's eyes widened as he watched an enflamed Santa Claus writhe and scream in pain, taking down the house décor with him. He hesitated to pull the trigger, but Santa's alien shrieking convinced him what was real and what wasn't. Blood and guts spilled out of the burning saint's abdomen, and Kevin showed no mercy. The flames reflected off of Kevin's lifeless, sadistic eyes. He turned around to grab the rope, which had already been fastened into a noose, for good measures.\n\nAs he cautiously approached Kriss Kringle's charred body, he started to laugh like a madman. A murderer. A psychopathic lion eyeballing its next meal. He tied the noose around Santa's neck and hooked it on to the ceiling. Just as he was about to pull it up, the blackened Santa gasped for air.\n\n\"Wait!\" He pleaded with a jolly old smile. \"You don't have to do this sonny.\"\n\nKevin showed mercy, just this once, and allowed him to speak.\n\n\"You've been a very good boy this year. Don't you want to stay on the nice list?\"\n\nKevin chuckled. \"No. No I haven't.\"\n\nHe heaved the Santa's body up into the air and watched the life drain from his eyes once again as he choked and gasped for some oxygen. \"Please!\" His voice changed. Something was familiar about it. Kevin walked closer to the hanging body and now saw that it was his mother, hanging on for dear life. \"Kevin, baby. Ple-\" BANG. Blew her head clean off with the final bullet. Blood spurted from her open neck.\n\n\"Fuck you, mom.\"\n\nKevin stood there for a moment, admiring the crime scene, and then decided it was time to clean up. So he grabbed the shovel and the body, and walked toward the front door, body draped on his shoulder. As the door creaked open, a clown stood there. The same one from before. Mouth agape.\n\n\"Wow. I'm glad I didn't fuck with you.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
7,443	11,094	0.192473	2,453	[ { "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 immortal sentenced to 1000 years of imprisonment. After 200, your prison is forgotten. After 10,000 years, it is rediscovered.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I wake and place my feet on the cold concrete floor, standing and stretching as high as I can until that satisfying pop sounds as my spine gives me what I want. Then it's a reach for the toes until my calves feel loose again.\n\nI trot out of my small bedroom and begin jogging, as I have every single morning for a very, very long time. The air is stale but it doesn't matter much to me, you have to expect as much this deep underground. The prison is built to contain just one prisoner.\n\nThat would be me.\n\nIt's fully functional, even still, with the energy being drawn from core heat and everything built to last. They had to. They expected I'd be here for a long time. The cell I sleep in exits into a rectangular room, exercise equipment gathered in the center and a running track around the perimeter. At one end is the kitchen with a hydroponic farm and breeding pen for what sustenance I require. Food is the hardest thing to deal with now. The other end is a library, stocked at my request. I didn't expect I'd have this long so everything has been read more than a few times.\n\nThey did expect me to be here a long time.\n\nJust...not this long.\n\nAs I finish running I stop and bend over, taking deep breaths to slow my heart rate again, letting the sweat drip onto the floor. As habit will do, I look up to the viewing station where the guards had once kept vigil. Not for years now. Many, many years.\n\nI shake it off and make my way to the kitchen for breakfast. A single fried egg on a simple bread I have been making for millennia and a chicken breast. Delightful. Still tastes as good as ever, even if I've been eating it for what feels like eternity.\n\nWhat I wouldn't give for...well I don't know. It's been too long I honestly don't even remember what food options there used to be.\n\nI sigh and clean the dishes, pat the chickens for what small comfort they bring and head to the library. As I step I see something move out of the corner of my eye and I look to see figures in the viewing station.\n\nGuards? After all these years?\n\nA light comes on and I see them, tiny figures barely visible through the glass. I hear the click that I vaguely recall for the microphone.\n\n\"Who is it?\" the voices say, along with other chattering and talking before they realize I can hear them.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nHow kind of them to pose it directly to me now.\n\n\"One of the great gods, has it been so long the mortals have forgotten that?\"\n\n\"When were you locked in here?\"\n\nNow that is actually a good question. I think back to the day the mortals created this place for us, many thousands of years now surely. I do some quick math before answering.\n\n\"Nine thousand, seven hundred and eight three cycles. Around the sun, of course.\"\n\nThe murmuring again.\n\n\"Impossible,\" is the reply.\n\nI laugh.\n\n\"No, just inconvenient. I was meant to be released after one thousand cycles but something happened, the guards disappeared.\"\n\nMurmuring. Goodness these mortals do love to talk don't they.\n\n\"Perhaps you can release me? I'll be eternally grateful.\"\n\nI chuckle at my own joke. One must become one's own entertainment I suppose. They don't speak for a long time. So long I begin to think they won't help me.\n\n\"I'm afraid we can't.\"\n\n\"Please,\" I say, hearing the begging tone slip into my voice, \"please, it's been a very long time.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\nThen the click again and the movements stop. I am ashamed to admit that I dropped to the floor and began to weep.\n\nAfter recovering from my shameful display of emotion I found myself sitting in the library but unable to focus. There were mortals alive out there, that was something. Perhaps in a few more cycles they would release me. Surely, just a few more.\n\nAs I sit I hear something. This is different. Something I haven't heard in a very, very long time. The main door unlocking. I hear the hiss of the door opening and quickly make my way to the main room.\n\nA young man stands there and looks at me, nervously. He holds up both hands in a sort of mock surrender.\n\n\"I just...I don't think it's right to leave you here.\"\n\nI take a few great strides to him and he flinches but I simply wrap my arms around him and squeeze.\n\n\"Thank you,\" I whisper in his ear, tears filling my eyes, \"thank you.\"\n\nI release him and we exit the room together, hopefully for the last time. As I take my first step I am struck by several barbed objects that sink deep and then my body convulses. My muscles tighten and my jaw clamps shut and I collapse to the floor. A dozen men quickly converge and chain me with the restraints that must have been left in the guard room.\n\nOne of them, a burly man with a shaved head, stares down at me.\n\n\"Immortal, they said,\" he says it with a sneer, \"thousands of years down here? Immortal. Well we'll see.\"\n\nThen a thick rubber boot tread fills my view and it is the last thing I see before it is dark.\n\n\n****\n\nI wake, slowly. I slowly swing my legs off the low, thin bed and rest my bare feet on the cold tiled floor. I try to stand but my legs refuse the call to action. So I sit.\n\nThe long scars that run down my leg remind me where they drew their fill of marrow from, bone marrow for their studies. I remember screaming as they cut into me, screaming for them to release me and threatening to burn their world to ash and finally pleading for them to cease.\n\nNone of that worked.\n\nI remember his laughter as I faded in and out.\n\n\"Some god,\" he said at least once, \"some immortal.\"\n\nI wanted to explain that immortal does not mean invincible but I don't think he would have cared. They wanted to know how to fight aging and disease more than they cared about semantics.\n\n\"Hey,\" I hear the voice from the door to my cell, \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nI recognize him. The one who \"released\" me from my former prison, only to bring me to another.\n\n\"You.\"\n\n\"Yeah...I get it,\" I hear the door unlock from the other side, \"I'd be pissed too.\"\n\nThe door unlocks and he stands before me, sheepish.\n\n\"It's not right, I'm sorry.\"\n\nI find the strengh to stand on shaky legs and glare at him but...here he stands before me. Apologetic and perhaps releasing me.\n\n\"Is it day?\"\n\nHe nods, with a confused look.\n\n\"Can you get me outside?\"\n\nHe nods again and leads me into the hall, devoid of guards for the moment.\n\n\"I opened one of the other cells, they're busy.\"\n\n\"Which one?\" I ask, thrilled at the prospect of one of my brothers or sisters on the loose.\n\n\"Don't know, names are all faded off the doors. What...who are you anyway?\"\n\nI don't speak but we close the gap towards a door, a door that leads to stairs. I glare at him for a moment and he shrugs in response.\n\n\"Only way up.\"\n\nI grunt and we begin the arduous trek up the stairs. Each one sends pain shooting through my battered legs. I mumble some curses but continue.\n\nWhen the door opens I feel it. The warmth of the sun. I take a deep breath and stand on my own as the warmth and light do their work. The only thing I really need. I can feel lean muscles filling out, my hair turning from gray to its deep brown and the lines that crease my face disappearing. I feel...I feel like myself again.\n\nWe stand on a flat space with a large white H painted on it, overlooking a mountain range that I barely remember.\n\nHe steps away and looks at me with fear. Without the sun I was fading in that deep cell, even if I would never die of age there. Like a mortal in his fifties or sixties, not the powerful man I am now.\n\n\"What are you?\"\n\nI turn to him and stretch until I hear that satisfying pop* of my spine. Turn my head for the same in a stiff neck. Bend down to loosen up my calf muscles on healed legs.\n\n\"What is your name mortal?\"\n\n\"Derek. Are you going to kill me?\"\n\nI throw back my head and laugh, it feels good to laugh again.\n\n\"No Derek, you have earned my favour. And a favour from me does not come easily. Shall we release my brothers and sisters?\"\n\nHe swallows hard and nods.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nI open the door back into that staircase, down into the bowels of the facility they have built over our prison. It's different now though. I have my strength back. I pause to look at him, applying just the right amount of dramatic pause that these mortals found so pleasing all those years ago.\n\n\"The Titan Hyperion. Now come. We have work to do.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,397	11,089	0.046151	1,608	[ { "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 Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you're almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "We found Anthony nailed above the altar inside the robots’ great cathedral. Or at least, the cathedral is what we called the megastructure with its scalloped black walls that arched into the clouds.\n\nOur resistance movement had been gestating underground for some time, preparing to take back a few of our fallen fringe cities. This city, Remington, happened to be the first we fought for. We took the robots by surprise, rising up from right beneath their feet, with planted bombs and fresh bullets, and devices designed to (but failed to) wipe their electronics clean.\n\nEven with surprise on our side, the city streets slicked with our blood, and body parts of our fallen troops mingled with wires and metals and electrics, until you couldn’t be sure if it was one of their bodies or one of ours that your were stepping over.\n\nStill, our numbers were greater, and in the end we overcame.\n\nThe black cathedral had no seats. Just this huge dome with wires running up its insides like veins. The light was dim and air dank. It was like being in the stomach of an electric whale. Against the wall, above a raised area we called the altar, was Anthony. He’d been dissected like an insect, his arms and legs detached from his body, but pinned just a few inches away from where they should have connected. Crucified in parts.\n\n”Hello?” said Anthony when he heard our footsteps.\n\nHe had no eyes and could not see us, but he could speak still.\n\n”Please,” he said. “I hear you there. I heard the fighting, too. Whoever you are, please, help me.”\n\n”Jesus,” I said as I looked him over.\n\n”My name’s Anthony. I’m on your side — on that of Jesus! They hung me here when they found out I was human.”\n\nThat gave us all pause for thought. We stood beneath him, staring at him like he was some fucked up piece of forgotten art and not something alive at all.\n\n”I’m Captain Patrick Tolly,” I said. “Part of the underground resistance.“\n\n”Patrick,” he said, grasping at my name with his voice — the only part he could grasp with. “Thank God. Thank God! I’ve been here so long. Maybe years.”\n\n”What happened to you?”\n\nHe paused for a while as if remembering that far back was hard for him — like peering into a dark box and waiting for your eyes to adjust. Eventually, triumphantly, he said, “They thought I was one of them! That’s what it was. Because of my damned insulin pump of all things. Thought I was a cyborg. So I stayed, biding my time to sabotage their city and army. Don’t worry, I was with humanity all along.” He laughed. “You can kill a human but never their humanity.”\n\nI exchanged glances with my men. This poor bastard.\n\n”They found out you were human, then?”\n\n”Not for a long time. Oh not for years. Instead, gradually, they upgraded me. To fix my ailments, to help me. Hell, if it wasn’t for God I think I might have turned fully into a robot. My brain, I mean. Because if you‘d been weak, if you’d embraced it all, you could have enjoyed it. Becoming perfect, like them. But no, I always had my humanity tucked away in my heart, like my heart was a pouch for my deepest secret.” He laughed again. An uncomfortable, painful to hear, croak of a laugh.\n\n”His heart?” whispered one of my men. I gave him a look and he shut his mouth.\n\n”Anthony,” I said. “We’re thinking of getting you down, if we can. And maybe we’ll see what we can do for you.”\n\n”Yes! Hurry. Cut me down.”\n\n”How long do you think you’ve been up there, Anthony?”\n\nHe peered back into that dark box. “I don’t know. Time has gone differently since being here, in this place. But, let me see. They found out my intentions after fifteen years or so. Since then, I’ve been here. Perhaps twenty, all together.”\n\nI let out a deep breath. “It’s been near three-hundred years since the city fell to the robots,” I informed him. “I’m sorry.”\n\nHe laughed again. The laugh of a crazy person. “Has it really been so long? I’m almost as old as Methuselah. Or older maybe. Am I the oldest ever human I wonder?”\n\nThe oldest human. I shook my head.\n\n”Have you ever heard of the ship of Theseus?” I asked. “Because it’s a very pertinent question right now.”\n\n”Theseus? I… Yes, I think so. It was… Ah, bit by bit, as parts of the boat became rotten or unusable they were replaced. Is that right?”\n\nI nodded, although he couldn’t see it. “That’s right. Until eventually every part was replaced. Which introduced a philosophical question: by the time every part was replaced, was it still the same ship? Or did it just have the same name?”\n\n”What an interesting conundrum.”\n\n”What do you think, Anthony? Same ship or different ship?”\n\nHe thought for a time. I watched his metal arms and legs twitch as he did so. And his shining, open torso, the mechanical parts inside moving like a thousand frenzied insects.\n\n“No,“ he said eventually. “In my opinion, I don’t think it was the same ship at all by that point.”\n\nI first took my rifle then took my aim at his shimmering, eyeless head. We couldn’t be taking any robots back with us. “My thoughts exactly.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,632	11,073	0.100072	1,182	[ { "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 been years since the last moon landing. After several decades of silence, humans proudly set foot on it again. Up there, the astronauts found mummified human corpses inside torn open space suits. The tags were still legible, Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin... the astronauts from decades ago.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Fuck.” That was all Toby could manage as he stared down at the two desiccated corpses coated in moon dust. He reached out with his right foot to poke at the two figures, quietly swearing under his breath as he felt something undeniably solid underneath his boot. “Ethan, Tommy. I-I’m gonna need you two to come down here ASAP. Over,” he shakily uttered into his headset. Without waiting for a response in the affirmative, the astronaut fumbled in his backpack for the radio and switched the frequency to that of Space Center Houston’s.\n\nHe took a deep breath to steady the quivering in his voice before speaking, “Houston, I’ve spotted an anomaly near our original landing zone. It appears to be two human corpses suited up with equipment from the Apollo 11 space mission. Furthermore, I can see the tags of one ‘Armstrong’ and one ‘Aldrin’ inscribed upon their suits. How do you copy? Over.”\n\n“Uh, solid copy, Vindictus 3. Just to confirm, you’re currently seeing two human corpses wearing spacesuits labelled ‘Armstrong’ and ‘Aldrin’? Over.”\n\n“Roger that, Houston. I’m finding it hard to believe myself even though I’m standing right here. But I just felt them with my foot and they were solid enough to be real. Over.”\n\n“Understood, Vindictus 3. Are Vindictus 1 and 2 present with you? Over.”\n\n“Negative, Houston. They were out collecting atmospheric samples, but I’ve given them the heads-up to regroup with me. Over.”\n\n“Understood, Vindictus 3. Regroup with Vindictus 1 and 2 and return to your space shuttle. Await further orders from there. Out.”\n\nToby began switching back the frequency to his radio before noticing two familiar figures far off in the distance to his southwest. He waved at them before finishing the radio calibration and saying, “Jesus, took you guys long enough. Get over here quick, you’re gonna want to see this. Over.” The other two astronauts’ comms remained silent, but Toby had already turned his attention back to the mummified corpses. He was no medical expert, but even he could discern the unnatural contortions of the bodies before him. The gashes across their spacesuits’ chest areas were equally alarming to look at, almost as if a Bengal tiger had eviscerated these people in the middle of space.\n\nToby briefly turned to track the progress of his fellow astronauts but abruptly stood when he saw they were already a mere fifty feet away from him. “Jesus. I didn’t think you guys could haul ass that quickly. Anyways, come take a look at this. Over,” he said as he began turning back to the corpses.\n\n“Hey, sorry about the wait, Evans. Barrett and I got a little preoccupied over there.”\n\nToby paused in his tracks, his mind slowly processing what he had just heard. He turned back to look at the one with ‘Andrews’ inscribed on the left side of his chest, who was now thirty feet away from him.\n\n“Yeah, real sorry about that, Evans. Andrews and I thought we saw something interesting, but it was nothing.”\n\n‘Barrett’ walked alongside his fellow astronaut as he spoke, the pair now fifteen feet away from Toby. The latter felt a sickening knot in his stomach as he saw the two approach, his eyes drawn towards their hands that were coated in red.\n\n“FUCK!” yelled Toby as he turned to flee as far from the two figures as possible. But it was too late. Toby’s incoherent screams died in his spacesuit with him, his final moments spent looking at the two desiccated corpses whose faces were eternally locked in a similar expression of horror.\n\nr/williamk9949", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,165	11,060	0.021382	1,197	[ { "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 NPC. One day, you see the player character do some weird steps and duplicate his items. You decide to try it for yourself.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The guy looked like an absolute ass.\n\nThat was just my first impression, all right? He definitely didn't fit in around here. The village was small and grungy, but he was all blond and suave, like he'd just arrived from some big city somewhere.\n\nAnd he kept looking around, all shifty-like. Like he was up to something. No, I didn't trust him. So I watched.\n\nI watched, in fact, eyebrow raised, as he waltzed on over to the log palisade surrounding the village. It was well behind the houses and shops, where no one else would be around to spy. The blond asshole smacked his head straight into the wall, casual as could be. His feet kicked, like he was jumping, or trying to walk.\n\nThe urge to look away was rising, hot and fast. There was something wrong. There must be something wrong with him. I shouldn't be looking, I shouldn't be watching He was punching the wall, ignoring the bruises rising on his knuckles. It didn't make any sense.\n\nBut I couldn't look away. I could only stare, eyes wide, as he casually dropped something clutched in his hand. It glinted as it fell.\n\nAnd suddenly the ground around him was filled with glimmering, brilliantly colorful gemstones. I gaped.\n\nEvery bit as casually as he had walked over, he scooped them all into his bag. And then he swaggered right out the nearby gate and vanished into the forest.\n\nI could only stand for a long moment, staring at where he'd been. That was crazy. I must be crazy. No, I was dreaming. That was it - there was no other explanation.\n\nI tried to convince myself of that, as I went about the rest of my day. But it itched at me. Something was wrong with that scene. I couldn't take it anymore.\n\nAnd so I found myself at that lonely stretch of wall, well after everyone else had gone to their beds for the night and clutching a gold necklace pilfered from...well, don't ask where I got it. I had a necklace. \n\nTaking a deep breath and trying not to think about how stupid I was going to look in a few moments, I slammed my head into the wall.\n\nA minute and a great deal of embarassment later, I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from yelping in shock.\n\nI was now ankle-deep in necklaces.\n\nSomeone was moving nearby. A guard? Someone else out for a late-night jaunt? Had they heard me? I didn't know, and it didn't matter. There was no way in hell I could get caught with a pile of necklaces all eerily similar to one that was soon-to-be reported missing. But I'd come prepared.\n\nThe sack I carried was full when I scampered back to my ramshackle little hut.\n\nAnd when the merchants came the next week, I suddenly found myself a much richer man. \n\nThe thoughts raced in my head. This village was special. I could make a difference here, become quite weal-I mean, I could make this village quite wealthy.\n\nSo long as I didn't get caught. If someone like me started showing up with bags of gold, people were going to start asking questions. \n\nWhat was the most valuable thing in the village? I found the question irresistable, suddenly. And then it occured to me that there was a mage, just outside of town. He didn't associate with us much, but he did have all sorts of odd valuables tucked into nooks and crannies.\n\nSurely he wouldn't miss just a few little baubles. I'd even put the originals back, after I was done.\n\nSliding the little bag of gold I'd earned under my bed, I lay back. And smiled.\n\n(/r/Inorai, critiques always welcome!)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,082	11,053	0.006027	1,026	[ { "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 massive Imperial fleet, led by Darth Vader, suddenly appears on Earth. Vader informs the Earth's governments that he is looking for a rogue Jedi named \"George Lucas.\" It turns out that Star Wars is real, and Lucas has been leaking information about the Empire and the Rebellion to the public.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Where is George Lucas?” Darth Vader boomed through deep, hissing breaths. \n\nSteve couldn’t help but giggle. He couldn’t believe he was actually talking to Darth Vader. He also couldn’t believe he was inside an actual Imperial Star Destroyer. What a world. \n\n“I don’t know where George Lucas is, Darth Vader,” said Steve, struggling to hold back a smile. \n\nIt was obviously impossible to tell, but Steve thought the Sith Lord was frowning. Perhaps Steve was gaining access to the Force? \n\n“Are you not stevesupafan86, leader of the most popular Star Wars community on the planet Earth?” The voice was much more robotic than James Earl Jones’ interpretation. The costume design was on point though.\n\n“Yes, that is me,” Steve said, puffing his chest out. “You didn’t let me finish. I don’t know where Lucas is, but I do know where Skywalker Ranch is. It’s—”\n\nDarth Vader interrupted, “Skywalker?” Somehow, his mechanical voice altered to a more dangerous register. \n\n“Yes, Skywalker Ranch, Darth,” said Steve, hoping to sneak that one in there. “It’s kind of like George Lucas’ treehouse. It’s not open to the public because Lucas is an asshole and a jerk, but I’ve seen some real pics of the inside. It’s sick.”\n\n“You will show me where this Skywalker Ranch is,” Darth ordered.\n\nSteve’s jaw fell. “Um, yes, oh my god, yes. What a great idea. We can go together! Oh, it’ll be awesome. Me and Darth Vader just pulling up to the Skywalker Ranch, kicking down doors and whooping ass. Oh yeah. We gotta do that. Do you maybe have a lightsaber you can give me?” he asked hopefully. He eyed the saber dangling from Vader’s hip. He had the exact model back home. \n\n“Perhaps,” Darth replied. “If you lead me to the traitorous Lucas so that I may kill the Last Jedi, then I will find more use for you. I sense treachery and bloodlust in your heart. The Dark Side calls to you greatly, does it not?” \n\nSteve took a shaky breath. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting his whole life. \n\n“Yes,” he said seriously. “The Dark Side does call to me. I’ll do anything, anything for power. That’s how I became the top moderator of r/starwars. Ruthless cunning, backstabs, and pure evil in equal doses.” \n\nDarth nodded. His breath hissed out. “Good. Now, let us go to this Ranch. Lucas has lived for too long.” \n\n“Yes,” Steve whispered, his feet tingling. “Let us deliver the Empire’s justice to Skywalker—I mean Lucas. That scumbag.” He looked up to Darth for approval, and the Sith Lord nodded again.\"\n\nSteve was having the best time of his life. \n\n---\ncheck out my subreddit /r/chrischang for more non-starwars stories :D", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,847	11,039	0.008646	1,600	[ { "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 imprisoned Nigerian Prince that has $100M in the bank but you need a foreigner to help access and get you out. You email lots of overseas people and offer a huge reward, but everyone refuses to help you.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "To: 10000 Recipients\n\nSubject: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello all,\n\nI am a Nigerian prince and I need your help for transferring 100 million us dollars. Sorry for my bad English it is not my first language. I was arrested because of my country’s corrupt legal system but I have the equivalent 100 us million dollars in our currency in my bank account that had been frozen. However due to a legal loophole the money can be transferred to a foreign account and then back to my account unfrozen. So if you can please open a foreign bank account at any bank in Nigeria and deposit 10000 dollars and send the bank details and pin to me. I’ll get my contact to transfer the money and then you give me your bank details and I’ll transfer a million dollars to you as a reward. Please help my family needs money.\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n(Due to another legal loophole I cannot disclose my name)\n\n*\n\nTo: 10000 Recipients\n\nSubject: Nigerian prince in need of help – more money\n\nHello all,\n\nYou might have seen my email last week. I realised one million dollars may not be enough so I’ll send two million dollars instead. Please act quickly, my family needs money.\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nFrom: bobert.jimothy@harambemail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nDear Nigerian Prince,\n\nMy name is Bobert Jimothy Harambe and I have opened a bank account in Nigeria with $10000 deposited into it. The bank account number is 420 616 6969 and the PIN number is 6969. When you’re done with transferring the money, you can transfer the 1 million to my personal bank account, 911 666 6969.\n\nBest Regards,\n\nBobert Jimothy Harambe\n\n\n\nTo: bobert.jimothy@harambemail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello Mr Harambe,\n\nI passed your details onto my contact by he says the bank account does not exist. Are you sure you sent the correct details?\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nTo: bobert.jimothy@harambemail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello Mr Harambe,\n\nI haven’t heard from you in a week and I thought maybe you thought the reward isn’t enough so I’ll transfer three million dollars to you instead. Please act quickly most of my family’s money is in my bank account and my wife doesn’t have much money left.\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nFrom: elaine122347015@gmail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHi Mr Prince,\n\nI saw your email and I wanted to help, but I can’t open a bank account yet because I’m not old enough yet. I’m only 8! I wish you good luck in getting help!\n\nYours,\n\nElaine\n\n\n\nTo: elaine122347015@gmail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello Elaine,\n\nHave you tried asking your parents yet? They might be able to help. Also tell them I changed the reward to three million dollars.\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nFrom: elaine122347015@gmail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHi Mr Prince,\n\nI asked my parents and they say I’m not allowed to help you. It makes me sad but I wish you the best.\n\nYours,\n\nElaine\n\n\n\nTo: elaine122347015@gmail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello Elaine,\n\nThat is okay. Thanks for caring about me. I wish you good luck and success in school.\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nTo: 100000 recipients\n\nSubject: Fwd: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nBegin Forwarded Message: Hello all…\n\nHello all,\n\nPlease read my message above. My family had run out of money and I don’t want my wife and my little girl to starve. I’m sending this through a phone I sneaked into prison but the guards are getting suspicious. I have also raised the reward to four million dollars. Please help!\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nTo: bobert.jimothy@harambemail.com\n\nSubject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Nigerian prince in need of help\n\nHello Mr Harambe,\n\nI haven’t heard from you for a while but you’re my last hope. I’m sending this from a phone I sneaked into prison but the guards are getting suspicious and my family is running out of money. Please help!\n\nYours sincerely,\n\nA Nigerian Prince\n\n\n\nTo: 110000 recipients\n\nSubject: An Apology\n\nHello all,\n\nSorry for the disturbance. A phone is found in the possession of one of our prisoners and he had been sending emails. Sorry for the troubles, this will not happen again.\n\n*\nr/ProjectSlate\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,510	11,036	0.021251	722	[ { "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 hero stared at the boy who was supposed to be his wise old master. \"Word of advice. If you ever achieve immortality then wait till you're at least 20\", he said in a high pitched voice.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Brandon stared, dumbstruck. \"I'm sorry, who are you?\" \n\nThe young boy snatched a long, thin stick from the ground and cracked it against his knee.\n\n\"OW!\" Brandon yelped. \"What was that for?\"\n\n\"Don't you go disrespecting your elders, whippersnapper!\" the boy cried, his high-pitched voice ringing in Brandon's ears.\n\n\"What elders?\" Brandon said incredulously, hopping in place on one leg. \"You're just a little kid — OW! STOP THAT!\" The boy had whacked him again. \n\n\"You don't know nothing, you twat! I've been around longer than your granny's gran! Seen more, too. And I ain't never seen a hero like you. Where do you hail from?\"\n\n\"From Brooklyn,\" Brandon said bitterly.\n\n\"Figures.\" The boy spat on the ground and looked up into Brandon's face, and for the first time, he saw it. The eyes staring back at him were ancient, intense, hardened. It was the same gaze that he had seen back when the gargoyles had shown up in his room to tell him he was the chosen one. \"I am Adman,\" the boy said. \"I was gifted immortality at a very young age, as you can see. I've long wanted to die. To pass on.... It's not natural, you see. Existence in this form. But Fate is a cruel thing; she'll only release me from this grievous existence, if I can train the chosen one\" — he shot Brandon a disdainful glance — \"and help him triumph over the Dark One.\"\n\n\"So what does that mean?\" \n\n\"It means, the quicker I whip you into shape, the faster I can die.\"\n\n\"Okay, so when do we start?\" Brandon asked. \n\n\"Right now, you dolt!\" Adman yelled, and he cracked the stick against the boy's buttocks.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,100	11,018	0.12749	702	[ { "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": " Nine out of ten dentists recommend a certain brand of toothpaste. You're the one dentist and, despite constant assassination attempts, refuse to change your mind.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The gun dropped from the assailant's hand as Dr. Martin, the Tenth Dentist, held the mask firmly over his mouth. The man had struggled but had made the common mistake of inhaling deeply as soon as they felt something trying to cover their mouth. A great instinct, as long as you weren't fighting against a mask of laughing gas.\n\nHe counted to twenty before lowering the man to the ground and releasing the headlock. He'd already triggered the alarm and knew the police were on the way. They would probably say it was just an armed robbery gone wrong, that's what all thirty other break\\-ins over the last month had been. Random, unimportant, something that could happen to anyone.\n\nMartin knew better than that. He pulled the mask off the man then picked up the gun as an afterthought. Martin poured himself a double from the bottle he kept under the sink and raised the glass to himself. He used to say that drinking in the office as a terrible habit, but that was before the study. \n\nWhy couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? Why couldn't he have just gone with it? All he had to do was check \"yes\" that was all he had to do. He couldn't do it. No matter how many times they gave him samples he couldn't get over the problems, no matter how much money they offered him he couldn't budge. They would have been the first brand to get an extensive study done where every surveyed dentist agreed.\n\nBut he still remembered the moment when he made the realization. \n\nThe moment where he realized with absolute horror what every other doctor must not have realized, or had deluded themselves into believing.\n\n Whoever had made Kidzeed Advanced Grape Toothpaste had never in their entire lives tasted a single grape. He smiled as he heard the cocking of a weapon behind him. \n\n\"If I die, then I will die standing for what is right!\" with a shattering of glass he draws the gun once more. It was going to be a long night at Martin's Family Dentistry. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,431	10,998	0.026337	2,151	[ { "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": "700,000,000.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My eyes have become three sizes larger and a construction crew has taken up residence behind them, based on the pounding in there.\n\nI roll over and sunlight washes over my eyelids. I angrily squint at the sun and hate myself for not closing the curtains enough. Then I let out a groan that would make any zombie actor jealous.\n\nThere is no construction crew. My eyes haven't grown three sizes.\n\nI had too much to drink last night.\n\nI squeeze my eyes tighter to try in vain to block the sunlight out. Then I slam my hand around on my nightstand, knock over a glass of water and scatter what felt like two small pills. Cursing myself, I am forced to open my eyes and right the glass, saving just a little water. Then I have to lean over the bed and find the pills.\n\nI brush off a little bit of hair, never hurt anyone, and down both pills with what's left of the water. Drunk me is always so kind to hungover me, and hungover me is an asshole that ruins what drunk me did.\n\nI rub my face, sitting on the edge of the bed, and try to stop the carousel my brain is on. I squint at the clock, water beading from the face of it, and read the digital numbers out slowly. Very slowly.\n\n\"One thirteen.\"\n\nIt is the afternoon, well and truly, the light confirms that. I've never known there to be that much light at one in the am.\n\nRolling my neck, I stretch sore and stiff muscles that haven't quite woken yet. I let out another zombie groan and try to stand, failing. I take a deep breath and make another attempt, this time succeeding in standing. It might be wobbly and I might be nearly overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, but it is a decent version of standing.\n\nStumbling to the kitchen, I find the coffee maker ready and loaded with dry grounds and a clean mug, because drunk me is the best. Pushing the button for coffee brings the machine to life, sputtering soaking up the reservoir to spit out sweet, sweet black brew.\n\nOne, two, three, four spoonfuls of sugar (it's the quickest cure I've found) and a dousing of cream and I sip it, careful not to burn my tongue too badly. Each breath is a slow in and out. It's all rather mundane and normal for a hangover morning.\n\nUntil I rub my forearm.\n\nIt's always been there. Faint green numbers. I told my parents about them once and I learned my lesson pretty quickly. Don't tell people about weird shit cause you'll end up in therapy for years, figuring out how to tell them what they want to hear. The numbers are real though, as real as the coffee in my mug and the pounding in my head.\n\nI have to be seeing double. Triple. Quadruple. Except I'm holding just one mug, seeing just one fuzzy version of my kitchen. But there's a lot of zeroes. I rub my forearm, the numbers disappearing beneath my hand as I do, but there they are again. With all those zeroes.\n\nSee, the numbers mean something. I figured that out by my eighteenth birthday. Save a life, get a decimal. Point one. Earliest I remember was it being at 0.1. A tenth of a life. Never made the connection until much later that my mom's joke about \"he's a lifesaver\" wasn't a lie. She'd been ready to go until I happened. Happy mistake. By eighteen it was .9 but I hadn't quite got it yet.\n\nMost times it changed for no reason. No obvious reason. Looking back it was a smile for no reason, a text that I was ten minutes behind, stuff that made a big difference to someone that wasn't me.\n\nNothing about the numbers was clear until I was at the bus stop waiting to go home, head down and headphones in. Just trying to be invisible. The weirdo kid who sees things, they'd dubbed me. Two other kids were goofing around, pushing each other, standard stuff. One of them tripped on the uneven sidewalk and started falling past me towards the road. I grabbed him and pulled him back. Just missed the front end of the bus. The driver laid into all of us about responsibility and the like.\n\nAnd that .9 become a 1. A solid, light green 1.\n\nSave ten lives, and get one. \n\nGet one what?\n\nWell, that one was easier to figure out. The summer that I was nineteenth was a good one. I was at a cottage with my family. There was a floating dock. I was trying to execute a triple flip (read: a simple dive) when I slipped and caught the back of my head on the corner of it. When I woke up it was almost a week later and the doctors said I should have died.\n\nAnd my numbers were down to nada.\n\nI was buying myself lives with the lives of others.\n\nSo I did what any self respecting human would do. I threw myself into a career as a paramedic and pumped those numbers up. That let me live a life I couldn't have otherwise. Three years of doing that job and I had amassed a respectable six spare lives, and all that by twenty three years old.\n\nOf course, I had used two.\n\nStill. Not bad. This is new though. The zeroes, so many of them. I have to count them a few times.\n\nEight zeroes.\n\nSo, ten for one means...\n\nI drop the mug and it shatters on the tile, spilling coffee everywhere. Not that it matters right now. If this is right...\n\nI can't catch my breath. My head spines, I lean over the sink and try to keep it together. It's impossible. Last night is foggy but it's impossible.\n\nSomehow, some way, I saved enough lives to amass seven hundred million spares.\n\nThat means...\n\n\"I saved the whole goddamn planet.\" I say out loud, because internalizing it seems to make things worse. I have to say it aloud.\n\nAnd then, the inevitable.\n\nI vomit into the sink.\n\nBecause how, how in the everloving reality of realness, did I save everyone?\n\nAnd why can't I remember?\n\nWhere do I ever start to find out?\n\nAnd then someone knocks on my door and a voice I don't recognize shouts through it, loud enough I can hear it from the hallway in my kitchen.\n\n\"We need to talk!\"\n\n\"I'm busy!\" I shout back.\n\n\"Not too busy to talk to me!\" The voice says.\n\n\"Fuck off!\"\n\nI am met with silence. And then my door is kicked in, splintering, and a man I do not know stands there. He is clearly enraged. Furious. Red in the face. Spitting mad. Pissed.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I ask.\n\n\"Gods, you don't ever remember.\" He says, some of the anger deflating from him like some sort of enraged balloon. \"You took advantage of me.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" I say, pushing back against the counter.\n\n\"No,\" he sighs, rubs his eyes, red eyes that scream of the hangover I've somehow forgotten. \"Not that. You and I got drunk, made a bet, and you won. I am in the deepest shit. And you did it. So, now you have to help me fix it.\"\n\n\"I don't understand-\"\n\nHe is suddenly holding me by my shirt, lifting me against the counter, his face almost against mine. Except his face isn't the human face I saw just a moment ago. It's a skull, shrouded in black, and it's talking to me.\n\n\"I am Death and you stole seven billion lives from me. And now, we're going to fix it!\"\n\nThere are three heartbeats of a pause, just long enough for those words to sink in.\n\nAnd just enough time for me to vomit down the front of his shifting black robes.\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cwm899/wp_for_every_10_lives_you_save_you_get_an_extra/eyhrdxp/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,180	10,991	0.010186	2,065	[ { "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": " Life has definitely slowed down since retiring at 70 as a super hero. To your surprise, your old evil arch nemesis appears at you door, claiming the doctors said he doesn’t have much time left. You two decide to spend a day golfing to reminisce about your glory days one last time", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Not much time left, old pal.\"\n\nJerold Steele's blue eyes went wide behind his thick, turtle shell glasses.\n\n\"Kent? What the hell are you doing here?\"\n\nStanding at the door to his condo was a wrinkled old man leaning heavily on a cane. His tweed jacket was getting dappled by the rain softly coming down outside. \"Are you going to invite me in?\"\n\n\"We're not in the game anymore, Kent. I don't know what you--\"\n\n\"Cancer, Jer. Pancreatic mostly, little bit in my lungs, little bit in my liver. Who would have thought high radiation lasers would have a lasting effect?\" he said with a chuckle that soon turned into a cough that soon turned into a coughing fit. It subsided quickly and Jerold stepped aside, allowing the white-haired man to pass into his home.\n\nThe condos at Riverview Retirement Resort weren't particularly spacious, but the links were right outside of that was your thing. Jerold pointed to a couch in the living room. As they walked down the short entry hall, Kent stopped and touched a liverspotted hand to a newspaper clipping framed on the wall. Brokenbeam Sent to Hyper City Prison, Mister Steel Saves the Day read the headline with a fading color photo of a silver-suited superhero with steel blue eyes shaking the hand of the mayor underneath. \"Long time ago, Jer.\"\n\n\"I guess it was, Kent.\"\n\nHe sat his cane on the couch and then eased down into it himself. Jerold walked to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer from the fridge and snapping the top off both. He sat one down on the end table next to the sofa then plopped unceremoniously down in the recliner to its left.\n\nThe tick, tick, tick of a clock hanging on the wall in the hallway and the soft pat of the rain outside were the only sounds for quite some time.\n\n\"Cancer, huh?\"\n\n\"Yep,\" he said, taking a swig of the beer. \"Doctors say it could be three months, six months. Maybe Christmas. Not much time left.\"\n\nJerold sat quietly for a long moment then said, \"How'd Marion take the news?\"\n\nKent laughed with a rasp in his throat. \"It has been a long time, Jer. Marion left me, oh, fifteen years ago now. After I got out. While I was in, she went back to school, finished her degree, hung up the anti-gravity boots, and went legit.\"\n\nJerold pushed the recliner lever and his legs popped out into a resting position. His legs got more tired since the serum, so he liked the comfort of the big leather lounger.\n\n\"I feel like I did hear about that. You two were a hell of a duo.\"\n\n\"Don't I know it. Do you remember the heist at the Mint? Me cutting through the vault, Marion zooming in and out around all those trip alarms.\"\n\nJerold laughed this time himself, feeling his chest lighten a bit for the first time since his old nemesis appeared at his door. \"And you got nearly all the bullion out before I hucked that vault door at your mechsuit like a frisbee.\" He laughed even harder and the man on the couch joined him.\n\n\"It got wedged in the hip actuator! I limped out of there at a 45 degree angle!\" The two men laughed until Kent pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mask another coughing fit.\n\nAfter the fit subsided, the silence returned. \"Not much time left, huh?\"\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nTick. Tick. Tick.\n\n\"You know, she wanted me to go with her.\"\n\n\"Oh? Why didn't you?\"\n\nKent wiped a bit of spittle from the corner of his mouth, checking for blood before putting the handkerchief back in his pocket. \"And do what, go work in a car factory? Go build rockets for the government? Who was gonna hire the Brokenbeam for legit work?\" He shook his head. \"Nah. Not for me. I had contingencies stashed away. Enough cash to get out of town. Laid low for a while. Kept out of trouble. Prison changes a man.\"\n\nHe let that sentence hang in the air for a minute.\n\n\"You start thinking about what you did wrong. Of course, you go through the whole gamut. Well what about regret? Well what about forgiveness? Well what about revenge? You start making plans and thinking about what you're gonna do when you get out. It takes you over.\"\n\nJarold took a sip of his beer and nodded.\n\n\"And then you get out. And you get a letter left for you at the visitor's desk saying you go straight or its over. And you make your choice. And you do your best to stay out of sight, but it doesn't matter. Two, three doctors all saying the same thing.\"\n\nThe pair sat, staring off into the distance. After a minute, he seemed to finish his thought quietly, \"Not much time left.\"\n\nTick. Tick. Tick.\n\n\"So why'd you come here, Kent? Closure? I'm not sorry I put you away.\"\n\nKent shook his head. \"No, nothing like that. I wouldn't expect you to say sorry. I did some terrible things in the name of greed and power. If I hadn't had the cash holed up, I would have ended up on the street. You supers could just take the serum and return to a normal life, but all my ... toys ... got confiscated by the feds. Couldn't have kept in the game if I'd wanted to.\"\n\nJerold laughed, sincere but quiet. \"Oh, come on. You don't forget how to build a death ray even if they take your reactors away. You could have figured something out.\"\n\nKent smiled a bit. \"Eh, I tinkered a bit. I figured out how to get a microwave to cook a perfect medium rare steak. Not rubbery at all.\" They both broke out into a laugh again until the coughing started. An observer might have thought they were brothers catching up on old times until the silence hung not in the comfortable way silence can do with old friends but in the uncomfortable, pregnant way of waiting for the next moment to happen.\n\n\"Well, Jer, I better get out of your hair,\" Kent said, then stifled a laugh. Jerold had always been bald, part of his signature look. Jerold shot him a look but still smiled. \"Not much time left, after all.\"\n\nJerold pulled his feet in, closing up the recliner and standing up with a bit of a groan.\n\n\"How are you going to spend your last months on earth, Kent?\" he said extending a hand to his long-time rival. Kent picked up his cane, braced on it with one hand and took Jerold's hand with the other, lifting up off the couch.\n\n\"Cancer's a death sentence. It's just another kind of prison, Jerold. Think about regret. Think about forgiveness,\" a broken Brokenbeam said as the now very human Mister Steel walked down the hall to lead him out. He slid his hand down the handle of his cane, his thumb swiping a small latch. A faint click sounded in perfect unison with the tick of the clock. \"Think about revenge.\"\n\nJerold stopped, his hand midair reaching for the door. He slowly turned to see Kent holding the cane upright, pointed at him, with a small red glow coming from the edge. \"Like I said, I had stuff stashed away.\"\n\nA hot, whirring noise began rising to overpower the ticking of the clock. \"Not much time left.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,038	10,983	0.152933	790	[ { "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 secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My phone rings again, drawing my attention. I pick it up, seeing “Do Not Answer” scrawled across the top of my screen. A number that the lottery people have used to try to call me. They won’t take no for an answer no matter how many times I tell them no and to leave me alone. I can’t figure out what their deal is. I wait until the very last ring before answering the call, throwing the phone on speakerphone. Even though I answered it, I don’t say anything.\n\n“Hello? Halle, are you there?”\n\nI don’t say anything, just trying to slow my breathing.\n\n“Hello?”\n\n“I don’t want your money,” I snap. “Draw a different name and stop harassing me!”\n\n“Please accept my apology Miss. Noavek, I just don’t understand. You’ve given us every excuse under the sun-“\n\n“And yet you keep harassing me as if I said maybe. No. I’m not taking your money. Draw a new name!”\n\n“Miss. Noavek, we need a legitimate reason to-“\n\n“I didn’t even enter this lottery! How did I win a lottery I didn’t enter... You know what?” Screw it. I’ve made up every lie I could think of the truth is more ridiculous. Let’s do it. “I’m immortal. I’ll never die. You can keep pumping out $2000 cheques every week and run yourself dry because I will never stop receiving that money until the company is dead from paying me every cent you’ve got.”\n\n“And there it is,” she laughs. “Sir, we have confirmation from Halle Noavek herself. We’ve located one of the immortals and are deploying troops to her location no-“\n\nI hang up, not sure if I’m breathing anymore. There’s a knock at my door, sending a chill down my spine. I head for the window and peek out, seeing multiple FBI vans in my driveway. I knew this day was coming, I just didn’t expect it to be because of a lottery scam. I toss my phone into the sink I was washing dishes in and head for my basement where my escape hatch is, swallowing hard. \n\nThey can’t catch me if they can’t find me.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,654	10,979	0.088251	1,661	[ { "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 realize that loose change around your house has a tendency to disappear. You start to look around for it, and find a small mountain of pennies, quarters, and dimes, with a rabbit-sized dragon sleeping on top of it.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It's impossible to keep any coins around in my flat. I keep thinking that whenever I get some change, I'll just put it down somewhere, and once I look for it, it's gone missing. Hell, if I put down my jeans with some coins in them, the pockets are turned inside out and the coins are just gone. I never thought much about it, but it was strange. However, because of the recent economic downturns, I've decided to invest in gold.\n\nMore specifically, I purchased some South African Gold Krugerrand 1 oz coins. Even more specifically 3 of them. Just in case the world economy goes severely into the toilet, because currently, it certainly seems that way. However, just as with all the loose change I've lost over the years, the coins were just missing when I went to check on them. And this was what prompted me to search my apartment for them.\n\nThe last place I thought to look was a small cupboard, which had been here since I moved in. Never used it. But as I open it, I see a small mountain of pennies, cents, dimes, quarters, shekels, euros, and indeed, my gold krugerrands. Atop the mountain of coins was a most peculiar creature. About the size of an average European rabbit, covered in bronze scales, a tiny dragon with bat-like wings was sleeping. I noticed a small amount of mice bones, indicating that the recent epidemic of rodents which had failed to hit my flat, out of all flats in the building, had a source.\n\nI gently closed the cupboard door, wondering how the dragon had gotten in there in the first place. I also wondered how a small dragon, something which in my understand is a mythological creature, had managed to live with me for so long without me discovering it. I opened the cupboard door again, and took another look at the dragon. It couldn't be more than a hatchling, as far as I understand dragons. It was somewhat thin, and its scales seemed pale and dull. I walked out to the kitchen, and opened my refrigerator. \n\nI took out some chicken strips, and went back to the cupboard. The dragon had noticed the door was opened, and was staring at me, staring at it. I then carefully placed a strip of chicken on the floor, and moved back. The dragon cautiously and slowly crawled out of its nest, and snapped the chicken strip, only to run back to the cupboard, meat held tightly in its jaw.\n\nI prepared a small bowl of water, and placed the rest of the chicken strips in a different, separate bowl. The dragon, still uncertain of what I intended, kept an eye on me the entire time when it ate and drank. But I was persistent. Every day, I would buy animal organs, like liver or heart, from a nearby butcher, since carnivorous animals need stuff like that to get vitamins. I would place a small bowl with water, one with some assorted change, and one with meat, by the cupboard door.\n\nEvery day, the dragon seemed less inclined to hiss at me, or to run back into the cupboard at the slightest movement of my body. But it was a slow process at best. No real results came until there was a great and mighty storm. The sort where lightning splits the very heavens asunder, where the winds howl like maddened demons, and you suddenly understand why our ancestors feared the darkness and the night. I was reading a book, when there was a mighty crack of thunder, causing the dragon to screech, and bolt out of the cupboard, only to run over to me, and cling nervously to me. I could feel its rapid little heartbeat, as I allowed it to hold unto my chest, as I made calming and reassuring sounds at the frightened thing. It even allowed me to hand feed it some pepperoni. Eventually, clinging to my chest, it fell asleep, its soft snoring indicating that I was stuck there in my good chair, where I eventually too fell asleep.\n\nAfter that, the dragon became more used to me. Almost like having a very intelligent cat. It would join me at the table and eat what I fed it. It kept the apartment free of vermin on its own, and sometimes in the evening I would just sit there, reading stories to the dragon, who despite having never spoken a word, seemed to listen intently to my every word. It would snuggle up to me as I read, and fall asleep in my arms.\n\nOver time, as I kept giving the dragon meat and change, it started to grow, from the size of a rabbit, to the size of a medium dog. It moved its hoard out from the now too small cupboard, and proceeded to hide all of the coins underneath my bed. Soon I noticed that as it grew, so did it seem much smarter. It would help with household chores beyond hunting the rare rodent, such as washing the dishes, helping with making dinner, and dusting. I had known dragons were smart, but I was uncertain how much. So perhaps it shouldn't have surprised me when it tried to wear my clothes one day, when I came back from work. It, well, she, I think, wanted clothing. Getting some proved difficult, but having earned a lot of money through a variety of work in the past, plus a decent inheritance, proved to be just right in getting access to a proper tailor. A discreet one used to unusual customers, who asked no questions and gave no answers.\n\nThe dragon was pleased with the strangely shaped dresses I bought for her to wear. I personally didn't see the purpose in this, but if it kept her from destroying my only bespoke suit, I welcomed it too. Besides, there is something weirdly wholesome about seeing a young dragon wearing a sundress or a kimono, running around a flat on all fours as she chases a thrown ball.\n\nReturning home one day, after a long day at work, I was absolutely not prepared for the dragon to sit on the flat's sofa, and look at me, her maw opening, her emerald eyes sparkling, a dictionary spread out in front of her, saying her first real words. ''D... Da... Dad!'' \n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,209	10,972	0.001946	1,616	[ { "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 most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Kh'loss, Grand Admiral of the Kh'hrani fleet, preened as he stood upon the bridge of the Indominator, gazing out through the viewport. Out in the void, although he couldn't see more than half of them, cruised the pride and honour of his race. Countless battles had it waged against lesser fleets, and unmarred it had won each and every one. Today, he could feel in his dorsal spines, would be another such day.\n\nSpace combat in the galaxy had moved on from such puerile matters as actually blowing up one another's ships. It was now all about who could muster the greatest amount of strength and display it most engagingly. The message was very much I could blow you up, but I haven't, so surrender now before I change my mind.\n\nAnd it worked. Especially for the Kh'hran. The victor in every such battle was free to demand punitive reparations from the loser, which usually included signing on as a vassal state, a tithe of resources from their world in perpetuity, and so forth. As such, it was a very profitable state of affairs for them to declare war upon any new race that managed to muster the technology to achieve FTL flight. Such races simply didn't have the resources or the fortitude to face a higher-tech enemy in battle, and surrendered at the first opportunity.\n\nThe latest newcomer race called themselves 'Terrans' or 'humans'. Kh'loss didn't care either way. He'd personally given the order for one of his battlecruisers to go to their homeworld and strafe a couple of their cities then transmit the declaration of war. It had worked; the Terrans were on the way.\n\nFor a newly emergent race, he was a little impressed at the size of the fleet they were bringing with them, though it held fewer than a quarter of the number of the ships in his armada. Did they even intend to put up a fight, or would this be a quick surrender after the first pass? He rather suspected the latter, given the lack of decoration on their vessels.\n\n\"All hands to battle stations.\" It really wasn't his place to give that order, but by the Great Egg, he loved to do it, so Captain Hk'ralli could go rattle his spines somewhere else. The crew of the Indominator quickly dashed to their places, though he could almost feel the smug complacency that permeated the ship nearly as thoroughly as it did his very being. They were good at their jobs. Good at winning. He was proud of them. \"Transmit orders: formation One-One.\"\n\nThe battlefleet formed up around the Indominator in the classic 'reaching claw' formation which had brought them victory in battle after battle. Opposite, the Terrans didn't seem to be seeking any particular dramatic formation. Kh'loss frowned. This wasn't going to be much of a victory if they weren't even going to try.\n\nStill, it wasn't his job to show the opposing admiral how to fight. He was there to show the Terrans that they were there to lose. Raising his fist, he brought it forward. \"Staggered attack, squadron by squadron! Go!\"\n\nThe order wasn't really necessary; but once again, he liked to give it. Raising their shields--which were tuned to respond to enemy attacks with great rainbow lightshows of energy--his ships darted forward. Their pulse weapons blasted out, splashing against the shields of the Terran ships--no lightshows there, which was very poor form--as the squadrons streamed past, keeping impeccable formation. It wasn't easy, and it always served to unnerve whatever uncivilised races he faced.\n\nAs the last of the attack squadrons looped around and slotted back into place in the reaching-claw formation, Kh'loss made a beckoning gesture. Your move. Are you going to reply, or surrender now?\n\nThe Terrans replied, but not in any civilised way. Splitting apart into several fluid elements, they darted forward, at far greater boost than any of the attack squadrons had used. Kh'loss scoffed; what race could stand such gravitational forces and still keep a clear head for an attack run?\n\nAs each element wove around one of the four spurs of the reaching-claw, it became clear that Terrans were one such race. And then something else became clear. The Terrans opened fire on the attack squadrons, but their shots didn't splash harmlessly off the Kh'hrani shields. Pulse weapons, kinetic-kill weapons and actual nuclear bombs smashed through the shields and destroyed the ships within.\n\nFrozen in shock, Kh'loss watched as the pride of Kh'hran was obliterated. Even those ships which raised their shields to hard max and tried to maneuver out of the way were hunted down and hammered to flaming scrap. His eyes wide, he saw the four elements merging to swarm toward Indominator and her attendant battlecruisers. He couldn't run, not against ships with that sort of acceleration. And with the damage they were dealing, not one of his ships would survive, even if they did take a few Terrans with them.\n\nThe battle was lost. If he wanted to live, there was only one thing he could do. \"Signal surrender!\" he screeched. \"If you value your lives, we must surrender now!\"\n\nAs the message went out and the Terran ships slowed, he tasted the bitterness of defeat. How had it even come to this? He was the most pre-eminent admiral in the Kh'hrani fleet, and the Kh'hran were the most adept players of the game of war in the galaxy.\n\nIt came down to one thing, he realised, far too late to be of any value.\n\nEveryone had assumed that the Terrans played by the same rules.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,575	10,965	0.081189	1,387	[ { "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 trapped in an endlessly repeating simulation by an alien race, studied and researched. They believe when they reset it, your memory resets as well, but for the last 1000 cycles you remember everything.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I shook my head in disbelief.\n\nAgain?\n\nIt seems they really never got tired of this. A massive war-machine loomed before me, training its guns on me. It was 20 feet tall, with four, long, bionic legs holding up its head, which contained its guns. I groaned before walking calmly below it. Many simulations ago, I would be shot by the thing, but I hadn't felt any pain from these simulations for ages now. The guns began spinning rapidly, preparing to mow me down, but once I got immediately below it, the guns would no longer be able to aim at me. \n\n\"Are we not tired of using the same simulation every time?\" I called out to the machine. I hesitated for a moment while its pilot realized that simply sitting down would crush me. I took two steps to the right and grabbed a rock from the floor. The machine smashed itself into the ground. The pilot looked smug in his alien cockpit before I smashed it open with the rock in hand. It shrieked and put its limbs above its head.\n\n\"Akja mo plee no--\"\n\n\"Lampa noo de?\" I said, climbing into the cockpit while yawning. I was completing its sentence, but I still had no idea what it meant. Probably something like 'spare me.' I smashed its head in with the rock as it looked at me, shocked. I learned long ago that if I spared it, it would spit acid at me immediately. I threw its body out the cockpit and took the seat for myself, preparing yet another rampage. I decided I'd go to the suburbs this time. \n\n\"Onka no. Onka no,\" I heard from overhead. It sounded like a loudspeaker. It could have been an evacuation alarm, or the aliens trying to talk to me. Whatever it was, I was going for the rampage. I drove the mech to the houses and smashed each of its feet into different houses. Smash aliens started running from most houses. Children presumably. I smashed each one into a pulp, humming a tune. I wonder if the things in the simulations remembered too. They seemed scared of me, but it's hard remembering a time they weren't afraid of me after learning how to pilot this thing. I pointed the guns at the neighborhoods in front of me and obliterated them. Must have been hundreds, dead. \n\nI grabbed a couple of the children's corpses from below me and threw them backwards, over my shoulder. By now, the flying war machines would be trying to stop me, but I would throw the deceased into their engines, destroying them as soon as they came on scene. After the initial carnage, I dropped the machine and climbed out.\n\nI walked through the utter wreckage wrought by me. Any survivors on the brink of death were brought a swift one by my trusty rock. I made my way to the satellite tower in the center. Long ago, I believed it was the origin to all the simulations, but it also seemed to be indestructible. Nothing would take it down. I wasn't even sure it was my way out, it was just natural for me to gravitate toward it after my recurring murder sprees. \n\nAs I reached the base of the tower, the world around me glitched and faded. I sighed and put my hands into my pockets. I looked up to the audience of aliens applauding me, as if I had done something they had never seen before. A few were cheering in their strange language while others booed and hissed at me. I leaned from one leg to the next, waiting for the council that sat on a panel below to start speaking. \n\n\"Pompa. Ikta no,\" one said, solemnly. \n\n\"I did this exact same thing, like three simulations ago! I killed just as many people and everything! Just let me go!\"\n\nOne of the council members pantomimed bashing a rock into the alien next to it, then it shook its head at me. \n\n\"I won't kill anyone if you just let me go! I got bored like 700 trials ago, just let me go!\"\n\nAnother council member held up a small alien and patted it compassionately, looking at me as if to suggest I should try to do the same. \n\n\"I already tried the pacifist route! I reset every time!! What do you want from me!? Please! Just let me go!\"\n\nThe aliens nodded to one another, pretending to understand what I was saying. One in the center stood and said something slowly and benevolently.\n\n\"No!! No, no!! I swear I don't want any second chances, just let me--\" \n\nThe world spun around me and I was dropped in front of a giant war machine training its guns on me.\n\nI shook my head in disbelief.\n\nAgain.\n\n_______________________________________________\nFor more never-ending stories, come on down to /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,106	10,949	0.013763	1,703	[ { "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 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says \"DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS\". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending \"It's a beautiful walrus. Look.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "What I really miss from the old world is pizza. That’s what I miss.\n\nThere were billions of us. Then one by one they all fell.\n\nThen there were 5 of us.\n\nNow there’s me.\n\nWhen there were 5, it was me, Mark, Jessica, Joe and Elli.\n\nElli was the first to go. \n\nWe were barricaded in a derelict apartment building in what used to be New York City. The world had \ngone mad a year before. A post-apocalyptic hellscape just like we used to make shows and movies about, except it \nwasn’t zombies or nuclear weapons that did it.\n\nIt was the giant walrus in the sky.\n\nPeople were amazed when it first showed up. Hypnotized. Then one by one they all went mad. \nSomething about the walrus. It messed with their heads. Made them kill themselves, a mixture of awe \nand horror in their faces as they plunged the knives in their throats or pulled the trigger or jumped off \nthe roof. \n\nLike what they had seen was simultaneously terrifying and absolutely perfect.\n\nWhat that thing was? What they saw when they looked at the walrus? Only those who looked could tell. \nAnd they’re not here anymore.\n\nElli – our hunter – was the first to go. By accident. He was out trying to find some food, the usual post-\napocalyptic routine, we all had our roles. And he heard a bird call and he looked up. Reflex. Didn’t even \nthink about it.\n\nHe never made it home. We saw through the window. Cut his own body in half with his hunting knife.\n\nMark and Jessica saw it reflected on the broken glass window one night. I raced into the room just in time to see \nthem laughing as they grabbed the shotgun. First Mark – BANG! Off with his head.\n\nThen Jessica grabbed it from his dead hands.\n\n“No, don’t do it, Jessica, don’t –”\n\nAnd she was gone too.\n\nJoe decided. His was a choice. His choice. I can respect that. \n\nOne night, just me and him, provisions running out, us eating spoiled canned meat and grilled cockroaches around the fire in the fourth floor of the building… I was telling him how I missed pizza and how I wish we could find some and he just looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said: “I’m going to look at it. I can’t live like this anymore.”\n\nI didn’t protest. I watched him walk to the edge of the apartment, where the outer wall would be – the building front had long collapsed, so he stood in a sort of improvised ledge, no roof over his head, bathed in moonlight, looking down at the city at first. And then he looked up.\n\nFor a long time he just stared.\n\nThen he turned back to me, the all-too-familiar madness in his eyes already.\n\n“What is it?” I asked.\n\nHe chuckled. “It’s a fucking walrus hovering in space, man.”\n\nAnd then he jumped.\n\nI’m telling you all this because I looked too. I followed Joe. I lasted a couple of hours into the night but then I did. I walked out to that same ledge, the edge of our building, and I took a deep breath and felt the moonlight's end on my face and I looked up. I am still looking up now. At it.\n\nThe walrus.\n\n“Is this it?” I ask, to the giant walrus in the sky.\n\n“Yes,” the walrus says.\n\n“No visions? No amazing revelations? No fundamental truths about the universe? You don’t make people \nsee things?”\n\n“No, man. It’s just me,” the walrus says, in a casual tone. He hovers, up and down and up and down \nslightly like a spaceship.\n\nThere's a peacefulness to him.\n\n“So… all this time… it was literally just a big walrus in the sky? That's all it was?”\n\n“Just big ol’ me.”\n\n“What does it mean?” I ask, trembling voice. \"What's the meaning of it all?\"\n\n“It means nothing, bro,” he says. “It’s like… that’s just how the universe is. Sometimes a big fat walrus \njust shows up on a planet’s atmosphere. No higher power, no mythical explanation, no greater truth.”\n\n“Just a big fat walrus…” I repeat. \n\nAnd I get it.\n\nI mean.\n\nI do get it now.\n\nOh my God.\n\nIt’s just a big fat walrus in the sky.\n\nThat’s all it is.\n\nNo purpose. No logic. No coherence. Any logic I try to apply as to why this walrus is here, how it got here, where it goes… it’s just me. My own brain trying to make sense, to introduce order to walrus chaos.\n\nI mean. Once there was a big bang. Energized protein began to feel and think and talk and solve equations. There is such a thing as to be and to not be. Death is forever, and was too before you were born. The universe experiences itself in all of us, all the time, and at some point it will stop too, and then what?\n\nI mean. Why wouldn't there be a walrus in the sky?\n\nI turn back from the ledge.\n\nI go back to the fire.\n\nI take a deep breath.\n\n“Sorry, bro,” the walrus says, from the sky. He seems to feel genuinely bad.\n\nI ignore him. And I try to get some sleep. I need the rest.\n\nBecause tomorrow I’m going to try to find some fucking pizza.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n/r/psycho_alpaca\n\n&nbsp;\n\nEDIT: [I made a PART II](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/kvmhar/the_big_fat_walrus_in_the_sky_part_2/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,148	10,947	0.312834	1,112	[ { "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 priest returns home after a successful exorcism. His demon daughter is waiting for him there, angry that he removed her from someone’s body again.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The trembling crucifix dug into Patrick's hand as he squeezed it tight, a bulwark against the insanity raging on the bed.\n\nMrs Jones -- the current possessed -- baked the best pasties in all of Saint Ives. At least, she'd used to before the demon had come upon her. The air of her house still echoed with sweetness of dough, but it was almost perverse under the prevailing stench of urine and vomit. Of despair.\n\nNow she writhed on the double bed, thick rope knots binding her to each corner-post. They strained and bulged like the veins on her purlpleing face.\n\nPatrick chanted in Latin. Mrs Jones whipped her own curses back at him in Aramaic, Phoenician, Hebrew. Her voice was deep, dark as December rain clouds, as hard as a Medusa's eyes.\n\nMister Jones sat against the door, sobbing, head in his hands. Claw marks guttered his face and his muscles ached from helping the priest restrain his wife. If... if the priest could help at all, could bring his wife back -- Jesus, if he could just end her suffering -- he'd give him what little he'd tucked away over the years.\n\nThe metal bedposts screeched, curved inwards, as the possessed baker struggled with inhuman strength.\n\nEven Patrick, who had performed this ritual a hundred times before, had a heart full of fear. When his daughter -- the demon inside Mrs Jones -- became as agitated as this, there was no telling how far she might go were she to break free.\n\nHe switched to English. Thrust the little crucifix at her head. She screamed; her skin singed red, flaked, as if she were roasting in an oven. \"The power of Christ compels you!\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\\---\n\n&#x200B;\n\nWhen all was done Mrs Jones was returned to her body, her body to the hospital, and Patrick to his own home.\n\nHis hand still shook as he tried to place the key into the lock. Maybe tense still from holding the crucifix so long and so desperately tight. Or maybe from nerves that would last until tomorrow.\n\nBut he didn't need to unlock the door; it swung back in on itself.\n\nA girl, no more than fourteen, but with black eyes as ancient as any mountain, stood before him.\n\n\"Hello Father,\" she said. Lips curled. \"Wasn't that fun.\"\n\n\"I don't know if I'd call it fun, exactly,\" he replied, walking past her and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and fished out a beer. \"Want one?\"\n\n\"You know I don't drink.\"\n\nHe smirked as he opened it; a burst of fizz clouded the rim. \"Suit yourself.\"\n\n\"Well?\" she said, impatiently. \"How'd we do?\"\n\n\"Decent enough,\" he said. \"But we really should choose better marks.\"\n\nHe took out his wallet and laid out a handful of notes on the kitchen table. \"Plus free Cornish pasties for life. As long as his wife can still make them, that is. You didn't exactly go easy.\"\n\nShe titled her head as she stared at the money. \"I'm a method actor.\"\n\n\"Either way, we need to pick people with more money.\"\n\n\"People with more money don't call people like you,\" she said.\n\nAnd that was the truth of it, Patrick thought, as he took a long swig of beer. Superstitious folk tend to call him; other folk tended to call a psychiatrist.\n\n\"Whatever,\" he said. \"We've got enough money for a break. And God knows I need it.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,385	10,942	0.085055	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": "forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "They all tell me I'm crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm sensible. \n\nIt sounds cliche, I mean, what crazy person doesn't think they're perfectly sane? But it's true, there's something wrong with the world. Deeply, deeply wrong. It's always been this way, always will be. I don't know why the world's always been wrong, but it has. It shouldn't be this way, never should've. \n\nWhy is the world so wrong? Well, it comes down to one thing. Physics. The way the world works. The way everything makes sense. I adore the field of physics, absolutely love it. Physics makes sense.\n\nYou see, it's all very simple, all very simple... physics comes in Laws. The Laws dictate how everything works. When this is this, that is that. The force of gravity goes down. When you punch someone with the force of a freight train you can't just shrug it off without a scratch, and you can't make something out of nothing!\n\n... But my physics is not this world's physics. The people around me believe in fantasies, they accept flying men, super strength and supernatural powers of creation like it's a perfectly normal thing! \n\nAbsurd. Unthinkable. Their scientists explain it away with arbitrary math and foreign rules. They have the audacity to tell me that that's the way it's always been! It doesn't click. Doesn't work. \n\nI've tried, too. I've really tried to explain it to them all, how these physics of theirs couldn't possibly work, how it was illogical according to the Laws that governed all things. They all said no, said how they didn't know who this Antoine Whosit was or what this Einstein guy did. \n\nIt's always been like this from the beginning. Like my head was plucked from a better, more sensible world. When I was in high school, I excelled in everything. Algebra, English, all of it. It was child's play to me, I flew past them effortlessly. But the one thing I struggled with the most was also the one thing that was my passion. Physics.\n\nThe physics classes flew straight over my head. I failed every single one of my physics tests. They all said that I was just too delusional for my own good. That I was smart but couldn't look past my petty fantasies about “Newton this” or “Electron that” or just about any other modicum of sense I tried to pour into their fool heads. I was about to go insane, and I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I was the one who had gone awry, maybe I was what was wrong with the world.\n\nUntil it all finally, finally clicked into place when I started lab experimentation in my second semester during junior year. You see, I had a real knack for labs. I could've done them all day. They were my new favorite thing in the entire world. Because in my regular lessons, there was always something intrinsically wrong with what the teachers taught. But the labs made sense. I carried them out, and things happened as they should have. Physics finally made sense. So, nothing went awry, and my labs went well, right? Wrong.\n\nMy classmates snickered and the teachers were bewildered when they saw my lab reports. My results were nonsensical to them. Think about that! Turned out, up was down and down was up when it came to my tests. No matter how many times they made me repeat them, my tests always seemed to defy their illogical notions of science. I realized I could make sense out of the world. That Laws could be enforced if I simply made it be. \n\nThat's when I decided I would fix the problems that I saw. I would make things make sense again, and I would be happy, because all would be right with the world. Corrections. That's all they were. Corrections.\n\nWhen I was confronted by Elementio while I was making \"adjustments\" to a laboratory, the Laws ordained that his abilities simply could not be. One couldn't create earth or water or fire out of absolutely nothing when there was a Law that plainly said that mass could not be created nor destroyed. A couple of bludgeons from an bat took him down quick enough. \n\nWhen I imprisoned hundreds of this world's physicists in my lair to try to talk some sense into them, Strength Man, true to his name, shattered into a hundred gory fragments when he punched down my lair's reinforced doors, meeting an equal and opposite force equivalent to the hundreds of kilotons of force he exerted.\n\nWhen I was executing my plans to regulate the entire world's gravity to a constant, Aviara, bless her soul, thought she could defy my physics and take me down if she flew high enough. Guess what? You can't! Splat, boom. Took the drop and sudden stop. The Law said she couldn't fly, and so she didn't.\n\nYou may think I'm unhinged, that I'm crazy, mad, gone insane. But oh, what can I do? What can I do? I can't return to wherever my foreign physics came from. The world where everything is good and makes sense and is rational, logical, and is where I belong. It's not possible. I am here, and here I stay. Because out of every stupid, outrageous and silly rule that exists in this god forsaken world, there's not one that dictates that you can travel to another dimension. Imagine that?!\n\nSo, this message is to make a point. I might be crazy to you, I might be a villain of the utmost villainousness in your society... but I'm simply following the only thing I know what's right. I'm simply correcting a wrong in a world that is full of them. Physics are Law. Superheroes break that Law. So really, when it comes down to it, all I'm doing is just eliminating the lawbreakers. Ahahah… Ahahahahahahahahaha! It's that simple! What's so wrong with that? What's so wrong with the world?", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,403	10,941	0.249186	805	[ { "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": "\"Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It technically started with the geese disappearing. It's not something anyone really paid a lot of attention to. People blamed climate change, and pesticides, and over-hunting. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and for dozens of other species, the correct one. Not this time, though.\n\nRegardless, it was quickly forgotten. A lot of people weren't that fond of geese anyway. Nobody thought back to it the day Canada went silent. The FAA was the first to notice it. Pretty hard not to when nearly a thousand planes drop off the radar at once. They quickly attempted to call Transport Canada, which is when they realized the phones were out. An assistant ran to the break room, hoping to pick up something on Canadian news on the TV, which is when it started to become clear that nothing was coming from Canada.\n\nIt was a good twenty-four hours before the various government agencies finally decided that something was wrong. They decided the best thing to do was to fly a plane over Canada and see what was going on. Given it's location relative to Canada, the first flight went out from Eielson Air Force Base. It never came back. Neither did the next dozen. The commanders in Alaska refused to send anyone else.\n\nWith all the confusion from all the various public, private, and government groups trying to figure out what to do about an entire country essentially ceasing to exist, it was some time before anyone realized that the refusal to send more planes was the last thing they had heard from Alaska in a week. Someone finally attempted to reach out, but there was no official response from anyone. Every branch of the military attempted to send something to Alaska, but the result was always the same, more silence.\n\nThe last message from Alaska was sent on a ham radio:\n\n\"To anyone who can hear this message, do not send help. If you are in the continental United States, do not send anything into Canada. Set up a fire line, dig up every gun you can. Do not let them get out of Canada if you can help it. If you are anywhere else in the world, be ready. It's the geese. We didn't know, nobody could've. It must've been the testing back in the 50's. They've become... something... more... nobody knows, because nobody has lived to come back... oh my God, I think they're coming!\". Gunfire could be heard in the background, along with people screaming, and some other sound, somewhat familiar, yet completely foreign, an impossibly loud squawking. The radio signal faded to static.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,628	10,939	0.067479	2,107	[ { "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 immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Here I am: the monster, the demon, the night-killer, the ghost of the metal forest. \n\nOnly one of those is true: I am a ghost. I am a living memory of an ancient past where my people once ruled this planet. We built towers to heaven and defied the great god of gravity and took to the stars. We lived and we conquered and we died just the same. When we invented a medicine that was meant to keep us alive forever, within ten years, all of us were dead. Killed by our own hyper-accelerated cell rejuvenation. \n\nAll except me.\n\nAll that's left of humanity now are the bones of our cities, and I live in one such place. Manhattan is reluctantly turning into a forest again. It's been hundreds of years since the should-be-last human died. The tarmac is cracking and the sidewalks are smashed. Grass poke up through the rubble, curling to create a hardened new forest floor. Vines curl up the bones of dead skyscrapers. \n\nThere's an eerie beauty to this place, now. \n\nI walk through crooked buildings and eat alone in the dark, dreaming of crowds that will never come again. \n\nI live in an old apartment that has no windows, anymore, only eyes to the sky. The wind whispers through and the birds nestle with me. Sometimes the place reeks of bird shit, but I don't mind. They're good company. They do not turn tail and run with they see me. Or shoot. Or scream. I know all their names, and there is one little sparrow I've named Delilah who will let hold her close while she puffs her chest against mine, and we doze together. \n\nToday I am in my apartment, looking down on the world. I have a speaker that plugs into an old iPod whose screen went dead long ago. They're both powered by the last functional solar charger I have. Soon, that battery will go too, and I'll lose the sound of other humans. \n\nTalking. Laughing. Singing. I have a podcast on here I know every word of, from listening to it over and over, to make immortality a little less lonely.\n\nI click the wheel until I land on the familiar croon of an old Frank Sinatra song: that's life, though I can't deny it... I thought of quitting, baby, but my heart just ain't gonna buy it.\n\nI'm swaying with the songbirds, Sinatra belting out over the green below us, when I see something. Movement, down below. \n\nI flick off the speaker, hurriedly, but they've already seen. Their head is turned up, staring at me, beady eyes meeting mine. \n\nHumans are dead, but the earth is not empty. Not by a long shot.\n\nI don't know what the new keepers of the planet call themselves. They landed here a couple centuries ago, looking familiar in some ways, terribly alien in others. I wonder if I look the same to them. These creatures are bipedal and have faintly scaled, mottle-green skin. Their eyes are huge and dark, like a horse's, and when they pick over terrain, they move impossibly fast, using their second set of arms to semi-crawl.\n\nThis one looks like a juvenile. Just a child. I saw one here last week, but I was so certain it didn't see me. Now it's back. \n\nWhen it sees me staring, both arms on the left side of its body lift and wave. \n\nI duck down below. My heart is screaming in my ears. The birds twitch overhead but they don't notice. \n\nWould my birds follow me, if I fled? If I never came back here? It's not the first time I've moved because of discovery, but it is the first time I've lost the only company I have. \n\nI look over the edge of the window again. \n\nThe child is gone. \n\nI wait what feels like an eternity. Half an hour. An hour, maybe. \n\nI switch Sinatra back on. Quieter now. I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet...\n\nWhen I turn, there it is. It stands silent in the doorway, half-hidden, like it isn't sure if it wants to come in. \n\nSinatra sings, ...a pawn and a king...\n\nThe child must see the terror in my face because it waves all four of its hands and blinks fast, speaking in little clicks that I can't understand. It's pointing at the speaker and then it claps all four hands together. It doesn't smile, but the thin antennae on its head quiver with something that feels like meaning. \n\n\"You shouldn't be here,\" I tell it. I hate that my voice shakes.\n\nThe alien holds up a clawed finger and reaches into its bag. I stiffen, wondering what I would do, if it pulled out one of those barbed guns. If jumping out a window would be better than whatever they would do to me. \n\nBut it just pulls out a metallic bag that it peels open. It reaches inside and offers me something I haven't seen in decades. \n\nA fresh orange. It's smaller than humans used to produce, but I can't help myself. I reach out and take it. \n\nNow those antennae are really shivering, like a dog wagging its tail, and I nod and it nods, and it's the closest thing I've had to a conversation with anyone other than my birds. \n\nThe child points at the speaker, questioningly, and I tell it, \"Music, music,\" until it can almost repeat it, though it sounds more like \"soosic\" and I can't help myself. \n\nI laugh for the first time I can remember. My face feels odd, splitting that way.\n\nI pat the empty chair next to me, and the child sits. We eat oranges together and they are the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. \n\n\"Will you come back?\" I ask it, when it leaves. \n\nIt clicks something back and squeezes my hand with both its left hands. \n\nIt says something over and over. Something I hope means yes or friend or it's okay, you don't have to be alone anymore.\n\nI watch the child descend, out of the ruined building, its shadow drawn long by the setting sun. Sinatra croons behind me, If I didn't think it was worth one single try, I'd jump right on a big bird, and then I'd fly...\n\nTwo birds settle upon my shoulders, Delilah the sparrow and a chubby little pigeon I've named Ted.\n\n\"You guys,\" I whisper, and for the first time the sound of my own voice isn't quite so lonely. \"I think we just made a friend.\"\n\nFor days, I wait, watching the brush the child had appeared from. I want it to appear as much as I don't, because I'm terrified this time, it won't come back alone. \n\nBut it returns two days later with apples. Then a homemade slaw that tastes like coriander and thyme. \n\nWe always do the same thing. We sit and eat and teach each other new words. The child is named Skitsch, and I know its life through click-language words like tiny icebergs: bird, happy, music, hello, yes. \n\nOne day, Skitsch keeps gesturing between us, saying, \"Skilki, skilki.\"\n\nI stare, confused, until it clicks. I nod. \"We have a word for that too.\" I take its hand and squeeze it in my own. \"Skilki. Friend.\" \n\nI know it won't live forever. But I hope Skitsch stays my friend long enough to carry me into infinity with a smile on my face. \n\n°°°\n\nThanks for reading! :D", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,711	10,937	0.016461	1,471	[ { "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 hitman who’s “hits” survive your assassination attempts, despite your sincere best efforts, only to die soon after each attempt by comical forces outside your control. The hitman community can’t be convinced you’re not the most creative comically effective assassin alive.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Hit's at your 10 o'clock. They're pretty far away, it's safe to look,\" the earpiece squeaked out.\n\n27 peeked out of the corner of his eye at the target. The man looked like a fluffed-up peacock, in a white coat brighter than fresh snow. He laughed haughtily at the jokes from his company. 27 quietly groaned with disgust.\n\nThe hit had been ordered just three days ago by an anonymous contact. The money offered was, of course, completely exorbitant, thanks to the preposterous title 27 had earned himself in hitman circles the world over. Most of the nicknames were rather unoriginal, such as \"The Angel of Death\", or \"Mortis Incarnate\", although the nickname that truly described 27 would have been \"Grim Coincidence\".\n\nIn truth, 27 was a terrible shot. No matter how hard he tried, he could never hit the target. Even on his first day practicing marksmanship at his hiring agency, he missed the practically unmissable target at the end of the shooting range. What he had learned that day, however, would be what gave him his reputation; after 5 seconds had passed from his failed shot, a weakened support cable snapped from the wall behind the target and obliterated it with a single whip. Although the incident had earned him scolding and ridicule from his fellow students, it seemed to follow him out into the field as well. \n\nA misfire would pop a tire and send a semi careening into the target. A shattered pillar from a missed snipe would cause the floor to collapse, sending the target falling to their death. A ricochet of a pistol round would hit a barrel of toxic chemicals and poison the target. Sometimes the environment didn't even need to be interacted with to take care of the target. One time, the target's poisoned drink was thrown out by accident, yet 27 still managed to get credit for the kill because the target's steak had been infected with a highly toxic mold. Most days, it didn't bother 27 in the slightest. The job would be done, and no one would ask questions. \n\nSometimes, though, it peeved him how none of his kills were really \"his\". Never had he directly shot a target, or poisoned, strangled, or stabbed them; it was always that which was around him that actually did the job. Today, however, he intended to get his first REAL kill. It would be a pistol shot straight to the head. Point blank. Clean confirm. \n\n27 returned from his divergence in thought when the earpiece rang once more. \"Be advised, the target is returning to his office.\" 27 watched as the target started to walk away from their friend group. Excellent. 27 slowly sifted through the crowd into an access hallway adjacent to the target's office. He quietly sneaked up to the office's door, quiet not to attract any attention from the guards present. 27 looked through the small opening between the frame and the door. The target was deep in discussion on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings. Perfect. \n\nHe opened the door without making a sound and crept up until he was squarely behind the target. He unholstered his silenced pistol and held it to the man's head. \n\n\"Say goodnight, bitch.\" The target turned around at the remark and suddenly went white as a sheet at the sight of the barrel leveled at him. 27 grinned, and pulled the trigger. \n\nNothing happened. \n\n\"You've got to be fucking kidding me.\"\n\nHe pulled it again. Nothing. The gun had jammed. Out of anger, he tried four more times. It clicked each time, not producing a single bullet. The target winced with each click, but by the end, it had become apparent that the gun was busted. At the realization of his survival, the target yelled out at the top of his lungs. \n\n\"SECURITY!\"\n\n27 cursed himself as he turned around to see a thug in a heavy vest barge into the room with a rifle leveled at him. Just as they were about to fire, he dropped to the floor, then heard the gunshot. \n\n27 quickly scrambled to his feet, ready to hurl the nearest object at his attacker, but was met with silence instead of gunfire. He slowly turned his sight from the guard back to where he had just been standing. Slumped on the floor was the target, his brains splattered against the wall behind him. The guard had done his job for him. \n\nDumb luck had won out once again.\n\nPutting aside his anger to prevent the situation from getting worse for himself, he holstered his pistol before the other guards came rushing in and pointed at the original offender accusingly. With all his might, he yelled out, \"Murderer!\"\n\nPretty soon, the guard had been arrested, and 27 had managed to slip out of the party among the rest of the guests. Once outside, his earpiece crackled to life. \"Good work. Payment's been relayed to the agency. Apparently, your target had hired the most security out of any other of your roster so far; must have been a headache for you.\"\n\n\"You have no idea.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,123	10,927	0.085093	741	[ { "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 parent in an anime. Your child is born with epic anime hair, and you are certain they will become the protagonist. You are determined to not become a tragic back story like so many other anime parents.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Fucking fuck fuck shit fuck!\" I leapt to the side, somehow keeping my daughter asleep as yet another telepathically hurled boulder smashed down where I had stood. I looked down on the little girl that slumbered in my arms, why was she born with blue hair? The Main Character curse had already claimed my wife and Ill be damned if it gets me. I looked back at my pursuer, some psycho from yet another cult trying to take my little girl for their purposes. \n\nI had prepared for this though, in my satchel was a pocket of hammerspace I had a hermit make me. I reached in for a grenade, and with all my might whirled around and flung it at him, it took him a half second to comprehend what was happening but by then it was too late. I didnt look back but instead was greeted by a falling arm in front of me. Somehow she still slept. I decided to keep running on the off chance that there were more with the dead bastard.\n\nSoon enough I was back in my house, I set my precious (albeit a bit difficult) angel in her crib. Seemingly on cue as soon as I sat down she woke and began to wail. I picked her up yet again, cooing and shushing her into calmness. Suddenly my phone rings, its an unknown number but I may as well answer, wont change anything if its another cultist or god forbid a main antagonist.\n\n\"Sup?\"\n\nThe voice on the other end was a cheery woman. \"Open your door.\" She said.\n\n\"Are you people even trying anymore? Give me five minutes to rest for Christ's sake and then Ill come out and entertain your fancy.\" I snap, I hung up the phone and threw it across the room.\n\nNot quite unexpectedly, my door crashes off the hinges and slams into the wall. I stand quickly, ready for another fight. The woman casually strolls in and... Shes leading a pink haired boy?\n\n\"I see you have a main character as well?\"\n\n\n\nEdit: thanks for the compliments yall, apologies for any grammar mistakes, i was distracted when I wrote this. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,413	10,927	0.079732	1,183	[ { "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 don't invade earth for our resources. After a civilization achieves utopia some of it's citizens get bored and fly off to other planets to enjoy primitive thrills like violence, drugs, money and fame.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Welcome to SLZ08\n\nNote: Please do not be alarmed by the sound of the gunshot. It is nothing more than our way of welcoming you.\n\nThis announcement message has been created in order to help you familiarise yourself with our planet and its culture. After all, you've been frozen for over three hundred years whilst your ship travelled through the stars -- it's quite reasonable that something might have slipped your mind! Added to that, one or two things have changed since you began your journey.\n\nOur history is long and proud, but as a brief reminder of how it all began: Joseph Gallows left Earth with his family to create a terraformed, semi-anarchist paradise. Minimal laws, maximum pleasure. You likely chose SLZ08 as your destination of choice because of our approach to recreational drug usage. \n\nYou might recall that we were part of the Seven Pleasure Planets, the most popular tourist resorts for those bored of life in Earth's natural, humdrum, solar system. On SLZ08, there was no regulating what you did to your body, only recommendations and easy to access supplies (at a great price!). We believed in stimulation, not simulation. Whether you were after drugs to enhance your mental facilities, your reactions (we were galaxy renowned for the extremely high level of competitors within our bloodsport events), or drugs to simply experience a different experience, we were the destination of choice (voted number one stimulation destination two centuries in a row).\n\nUnfortunately, that is no longer the case.\n\nSLZ08 was bought out not long after Joseph's last blood-linear ancestor died -- twelve years after your shuttle would have left Earth. When the passion that was running this planet died, so did the tourism. Of course, there was no way to communicate this to you, or to your fellow passengers, and due to the limited fuel that you were carrying, and the velocity you had reached, it was neither possible to stop or to intercept you. \n\nSorry.\n\nWe have a large sample of others like you, who have already landed and been through this exact scenario. As such, we know with near certainty that you are experiencing a mixture of fear and disbelief. Is it a trick? Is it a lie or a joke? It just has to be! \n\nUnfortunately, it is not. But hold onto those emotions as they will soon serve you well. Especially the former.\n\nAs you also might recall, SLZ08 was also extremely popular with big-game hunters, due to our leniency on genetically modifying animal species. Not only did we create a real challenge for veterans (our patented hybrid-apex predators were especially infamous), but our scenarios often posed up to a fifty-fifty chance of success/death. This naturally appealed to both big-game hunters and to the real thrill seekers. It was they who eventually pooled their resources, creating a conglomerate with the capital to be able to purchase the planet.\n\nSince then, and with the aid of the new advertising campaigns they brought into effect, the planet has successfully been re-branded. Only hunters and thrill seekers come here out of choice, these days. The other ninety-three percent of arrivals are a mix between people like yourself -- drug tourists with unfortunate timing -- and criminals who have been sold to the conglomerate by the other Pleasure Planets (even pleasure needs purging occasionally).\n\nHere, both criminals and drug tourists have exactly the same rights.\n\nThat is to say, none.\n\nWe know that we don't need to explain, at this point, that animal life (worth hunting) on the planet is all but extinct. And we realise too, that we do not need to spell out the implication of that for you. \n\nYou will shortly hear a second gun shot. \n\nThere. \n\nDid you hear it?\n\nThat was not to welcome you. That was to communicate a message to you:\n\nStart running.\n\nThank you for reading. We hope you have enjoyed this brief introduction to our history and current culture. Good luck out there!\n\n\n\n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,253	10,915	0.165414	2,069	[ { "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": " You were born with an odd power that lets you know when somebody is lying. One day you're hanging out with your friend when you turn to look at him. \"Why do you look at me like that? I'm not an alien\", he says. He's lying.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I often debate whether it is a blessing or a curse to be able to tell with ease and clarity when someone is lying. I am not an expert on body language or tells of deception, although over the years I have come to notice patterns. Before I even fully understood what lying was and why people would lie I could feel something different when I heard untruths.\n\nEarly Christmas' were intensely confusing. I would often feel uneasy around people. I never knew much about lying and deception so had not learned to link this feeling with that yet, so it was just confusing how people were jovial and generous but somehow upsetting.\n\nIt was through school I'd really honed my powers. Got to understand that what I was sensing was always related to deception. I would listen to kids telling their stories about why they could not do homework, or swear they were sorry and would not do it again. I'd listen to the teacher making hollow threats and class members making equally hollow indications of acquiescence.\n\nOther than learning about my ability to perceive deception, and testing and confirming both that mines was strong and others significantly weaker, I had little interest in school. I would sometimes just start trouble so I could be kicked out of class and go to the place where all the other kids that had been kicked out of class went. These were the ones most liable to be lying and interesting to listen to.\n\nI remember a teacher telling me he thought I'd amount to nothing, he was telling the truth. He was wrong, however. At 16 I'd managed to acquire a fake I.D and learned the basic rules of poker. I began to play in various pubs and casinos in low stakes poker games. It took me a while to get good at the game but from the very outset I knew when people were trying to deceive me. I'd made close to $100,000 by the time I was 18 and could use my own I.D. By this time I was somewhat micro famous, making this slightly awkward.\n\nThen there are moments like this.\n\nIt often strikes me how many times people lie by mentioning the specific thing they want to hide. It would have been so easy for them to say, \"I do not have horns coming out my head\", or any number of various hyperboles. No. They picked \"alien\".\n\nThe best way to describe it when someone lies in a very unexpected way, with my sense of things, is like if you were to walk out on a road that seemed safe to cross, only to hear screeching brakes right beside you. The word \"alien\" making me almost physically jump in astonishment. I managed to contain myself, I've become phenomenally well practised in doing so, one has to to avoid too much attention.\n\n\"Not from Mars then, no?\" I try to keep it light-hearted but I do want to confirm.\n\n\"Nope, not me\", he replies. He is telling the truth.\n\nI notice how dumb a question it was. I should have went with something more broad. Mars is one of the few places that apparently we (they) know a bit about and probably doesn't have complex creatures. I search my mind for a more tactful way to probe further.\n\n\"Just always been an Earthling, huh\"?\n\n\"Is there anything else to be\"?\n\nDamn it! The old answering the question with the question. This really throws me off. His answer is not lying but it is not an answer. It implies we all know the same answer. This was a good deflection. I thought I'd had him well cornered with the \"earthling\" thing.\n\n\"Do you think aliens exist?\"\n\n\"Maybe\"\n\nI cock my head at him and he turns away, acting like he is busying himself with organising some papers scattered across a coffee table.\n\nI am not sure now to proceed. I do not know how they would react if I was to convince them I knew they were indeed an alien. What if they are not alone? What if this one is rather nice and friendly but me confronting the alien issue alerted other less friendly aliens?\n\n\"Don't you think it'd make sense there'd be something somewhere out there\"?\n\n\"I can see why you'd think that\".\n\nOoh. For the first time I notice it. How through all the time I have known them, they have been side stepping so many questions so as to remain neutral or change the subject. This must be how I have not noticed anything before.\n\n\"What do you think\"?, I think it is time to get pointed.\n\n\"What makes you think I think anything about it?\"\n\nOMG, this is like chess!\n\nI just shrug, and fall silent as I contemplate what has just happened.\n\nThere are aliens. Furthermore, I know one. Further still, my unique powers work on aliens as well as humans. I try to remain humble but there are some considerations this may just make me the most deception aware advanced entity in the universe. Maybe not, but one step closer.\n\n\"You still thinking about aliens?\", my friends voice bursts into my thoughts.\n\n\"Would you tell me if you were an alien? Hypothetically speaking?\"\n\nThey take a couple seconds, then catch me off guard with a chuckle.\n\n\"I don't think anyone ever gets away with lying to you, do they\"?\n\nAt first I am annoyed they have dodged the question and it takes a few seconds to sink in that they are telling the truth. That they must know! I feel heart beating faster, and I stumble for something to reply.\n\n\"But would you tell me?\", it is all I can think of. As I say it, it sounds dumb coming out of my mouth.\n\n\"If you were an alien, would you?\"\n\nThey give me a fleeting knowing look, then turn on their heels grabbing their coat and starting towards the door.\n\n\"Got to get off, got a spaceship to catch\".\n\nI sense no deception, but them being an alien is the least confusing part of all this now.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nEdit; Part 2, from \"Alien friend\" perspective.\n\n[https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2ad0e/wp\\_you\\_were\\_born\\_with\\_an\\_odd\\_power\\_that\\_lets\\_you/eay1ifg](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2ad0e/wp_you_were_born_with_an_odd_power_that_lets_you/eay1ifg)\n\n&#x200B;\n\nEdit2 -\n\nThank you to everyone for their feedback, votes and the 2x gold. Much appreciated.\n\nI found this a lot of fun to write and was considering writing a part 3. However, upon consideration I think it would probably be a lot more fun to write the backstory, the discovery and development of the lie detection power, the initial meeting of “alien friend” and then the follow on from what is written here.\n\nI was thinking about doing this in ongoing blog posts spanning over a few months or something, with altering perspectives between the two characters.\n\nIf you’d be interested in reading this, shoot me a message and will let you know once the first parts are up.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\nEdit 3; Prequel\n\n[https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2ad0e/wp\\_you\\_were\\_born\\_with\\_an\\_odd\\_power\\_that\\_lets\\_you/eb9y7gz](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a2ad0e/wp_you_were_born_with_an_odd_power_that_lets_you/eb9y7gz) ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,220	10,914	0.0328	2,256	[ { "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": " Fallen angel is a pretty popular trope in fiction. But I want to hear about Ascended Demons. Demons that were too good/ kind/ pious for the underworld and managed to break out.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I flicked my cigarette on the old, worn carpet and twisted it out with the sole of my shoe. I hated to waste it, but the man I needed to see wasn't a smoker. Not anymore, at least, and I didn't want to annoy him. Not while I needed his advice. I hesitated a moment before knocking, almost wishing he would not answer. \"Don't be such a coward,\" I told myself before using my knuckles to rap on the wooden door.\n\nThe door opened and there he was. \"You are the one who called me then?\" he asked me. I nodded, and he opened the door and turned away without a word. I stepped through and closed the door behind me. The main living area was sparsely furnished, with a couple of chairs and a sofa. My host waved me to the sofa.\n\n\"Do you want a coffee?\" he asked.\n\n\"Sure,\" I said, \"cream. No sugar.\" We didn't speak while he poured a cup for each of us, stirred in my cream and walked it over to me. He sat across from me, tilting his head slightly as if considering me. I felt like he was looking through me, into me deeply, almost like a predator considers its prey.\n\n\"So,\" he finally said, \"tell me. How did you end up here and why come to me?\"\n\nI considered for a moment. \"It began when the deal with the devil showed me he could be outwitted,\" I began.\n\n\"My deal?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes. Your deal. Your deal showed that as powerful as Lucifer is he could be outwitted. Until then, I really never had any hope. When that girl, that poor child, was released, a seed was planted in me. I had hope, for the first time in eternity, that maybe I could get out too,\" I explained, although I was pretty sure he already knew all of this.\n\n\"Big difference between a human soul and a demon,\" he offered.\n\n\"Sure. I know. I know exactly what I am. Still, hope is funny that way. Once you have it, you begin to look for ways to make a difference. It began with some souls that arrived in hell, and by the rules belonged there, but were really just hurting. Suicides. Kids,\" I said. Damn, I really wanted a smoke. Fidgeting slightly, I continued.\n\n\"So I began to collect them, and try and protect them from the others. A few at first. The most needy. The ones with the worst pain who, except for that stupid rule, would have gone to heaven instead. I closed off an area of the netherworld and refused to let my fellow demons near them. That worked for a while, but it was pretty clear that the Boss was taking notice and didn't like it. Then, I saw my chance to help,\" I sipped my coffee, and focused on his eyes. They were boring into me as if he could sear the truth from me.\n\n\"I found a way to get here, although then it was temporary. I couldn't stand the light then. None of us can, you know. But at night? When it is darkest? I could sneak out for a few minutes,\" I signed and leaned back. \"So I did.\"\n\n\"Who was your first?\" he asked.\n\n\"A kid. An eleven year old Hispanic kid that was ready to shoot himself. When I showed up suddenly, he dropped the gun in fear. You know how it is. A demon appears, in their hell form, and people piss themselves. Anyway, I talked to him. Explained how it really was. Told him what waited, but also what a difference he could make, if he went to the right people. To you.\" I had wondered about that decision, but I really didn't know anyone else who would believe the kid and still want to help.\n\n\"Yeah, he was shaken up alright. He's good now. New home, new family. So that was the first?\" he asked me, setting his coffee cup down and leaning forward.\n\n\"Yeah. The first. Honestly, it felt, well, weird. In a good way. I had defied the rules of hell, defied the Devil, and saved one life. Then I did it again. And again. So many now,\" I sighed again, then drank the remaining coffee before setting my cup down too. \"It was on the last one I realized how much this had changed me.\"\n\n\"How did you figure it out? I mean,\" he asked curiously, \"how did you realize you were no longer bound to the rules that force demons to stay in hell?\" \n\n\"Like I said. That last one. We spoke for so long that I hadn't realized the sun was up. She mesmerized me, such a beautiful soul who had been treated so ugly. She promised to come see you?\" It was more of a question than a statement. He nodded. \n\n\"She did,\" was all he said.\n\n\"Well, when the sun shone into the room and I was still there, no pain, no smoke, that was when I knew I didn't have to return. I was able to create this human form with what little demon power I had left, and decided the time had come for me to do what I told all of them to do. Come and see you. Find a new life. Tell me, Mr. Constantine, does a demon have a soul? Can I find a meaning and purpose beyond what I was created to be?\" This was where I expected him to say \"hell no, and die\" or words to that affect.\n\nHe hesitated. \"I don't know. I am confident that this has never happened before, that no demon has ever helped people like you have, or done it so often, so selflessly that they were able to break out of hell. Honestly, I am not sure I can even call you a demon anymore. You are something...in between, I think.\"\n\nA door opened behind him, and a young woman came out. Clearly she had just woken up but when she saw me, she smiled and ran over, giving me a hug.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she whispered, \"for saving my life.\" \n\nTears rolled down my cheeks, to my utter astonishment. I hugged her back, and whispered, \"You are worth it.\"\n\nI turned to my host. \"Everyone in hell knows who John Constantine is. The man who beat the devil, defied hell and is a servant of heaven. I am sorry if I added to your burden, but I have to ask. Will you help me? I don't know what to do,\" I pleaded as the young woman sat next to me, and took my hand in hers.\n\n\"If I can,\" he said slowly, \"I will help. I have a suspicion that you won't need too much from me. I can get you some ID, help you get a job, perhaps with a suicide prevention group, and that sort of thing. We both know that the devil will try and retaliate. You are no longer of hell, but not of heaven either.\"\n\n\"What does that make me, then?\" I wondered.\n\n\"Human,\" the girl holding my hand said. \"Humans are of neither place until death, so that makes you human. And my friend.\"\n\nJohn Constantine smiled. He pulled a cell phone from his coat and dialed a number. \"He's coming to you,\" was all he said when the other person answered. \n\n\"Let's go,\" he said as he stood. \"I have a friend who can test that theory, and if true, it will be the second time in my life I have helped kick the devil in the ass. I would really enjoy that.\" \n\n\"How?\" I whispered anxiously. \n\n\"Sandy, get your coat. You are coming too, as a witness,\" Constantine stood over me, sympathy etched in his face for the pain displayed in mine. \"I don't know if this will work, but it will tell us something. You believe in God. You believe in heaven. And now, just perhaps, you may even be human as Sandy suggested.\"\n\nI stood. \"So, where are we going? What will this test be?\" I really wanted to pass it. I wanted to be free of hell forever.\n\n\"Church,\" he replied. \"We are going to see if the Rite of Baptism will work on you. If it does, you are human. If it doesn't, well, let's hope it does.\" \n\nWith that he walked to the door and swung it wide open. Uncertain, but hopeful still, I followed, with Sandy once again holding my hand.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,611	10,909	0.224982	1,315	[ { "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 morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Run.\"\n\nAlways to the point, my friend in the mirror. Sometimes the message only made sense in retrospect, other times it was eerily prescient about the circumstances of my day.\n\n\"Use crosswalks,\" that was my first message. I was eight years old and that day, I saw my first traffic accident. Almost a fatality, that moment where I was about to step out into traffic, sliding between two parked cars and not paying enough attention to the oncoming Buick LeSabre.\n\nAt that moment, I knew that whatever it was, it was looking out for me. Little notes from potential futures, my own precognition working into my field of vision, even time traveling - every scenario I could imagine, it all fell apart on close scrutiny. \n\nRather than question it, I learned to listen to it. Even when it had moments of pain in mind, I still marched to its drum, obedient and attentive.\n\n\"Work an extra hour tonight,\" it said, and I listened; at my apartment, the roof collapsed and killed my neighbor and my girlfriend. No other damage done to the building, just that one room. \n\nThe room they were in together. Naked. \n\nI had, and still have, no idea how long that had been going on for, and I tried to not care about it. The next day, the message said, \"Buy two breakfast burritos.\"\n\nNo emotional connection, no supportive additions, just a cold, almost clinical missive meant for me.\n\nRebelling against it, it was pointless. The few times, during my teenage years, that I did that, I ended up losing a toe and part of my hearing, thanks to ignoring and actively defying its message for my fifteenth birthday.\n\n\"Skip the concert.\"\n\nThe fire killed six, wounded one.\n\nMe, the world's dumbest recipient of future knowledge.\n\nIt never gave me winning lottery ticket numbers, secret codes or the names of people, just a sometimes vague idea, sometimes a painful reckoning. \n\nAlways at least a ten-hour head start on the events of the day. It used to be that I thought that I could do anything before the advice would kick in, except that I wasn't immunized against common sense. \n\nTwice during the experiments testing that idea I got my next messages in the hospital bathrooms. As it turns out, I'm not able to win street fights or avoid going through car windshields just because I had a note that said, \"Talk to the man in the red tie\" and \"Buy grapes\".\n\nThere's a rhythm of sorts to the messages; if it says, \"Take the stairs\" and my day plan is on strictly ground level, I know that I am going to encounter a scenario where climbing stairs is on offer and that I have to take them or I miss something - and that missing something can be painful or worse.\n\nIt's never repeated itself. For twenty-nine years, it's guided me through life, protecting me, moving me from most of harm's way, and sparing me from a couple of seriously dangerous moments.\n\nIt told me to eat airport bathroom soap one day, just before we got onto the plane. The message was the first one with an underline to it.\n\nSeptember 11th, 2001. \n\nI've had two since then. \n\nThe other, it was before I got onto a cruise ship, telling me to punch myself in the nose. The ship left port as I lay on the floor in the port, clutching my own broken beak, and the outbreak aboard ship took out a few people. \n\nThe third underlined message, it was this morning.\n\nOutside, I can hear a lot of noise. Pandemic be damned, people are protesting, rioting in a few places, and I sit inside, paying attention to the mirror more than the news. \n\nThe news only says what might happen or might have happened, and both are kind of irrelevant if you have advance notice to what is going to happen.\n\nExcept for today.\n\nThe message, it's always written in clear, crisp, 24-point Times New Roman font, legible to the naked eye, always tucked into the lower left corner of the mirror.\n\nToday, I can see it on every flat and reflective surface in my line of sight, and today, it's written in blood.\n\nI know two things.\n\nOne, it's that my future has been guided to relative safety since I was a child, protecting me, trying to spare me from the fractional majority of harm.\n\nI don't know why.\n\nTwo: I can recognize my own handwriting.\n\n\"Run.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,915	10,890	0.048556	715	[ { "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 being kidnapped you wake up in a room where the only thing to keep you occupied is a computer with access to just wikipedia. After 2 years you are taken to an illegal gameshow as 1 of 10 contestants, if you are eliminated, you die.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The blinding lights shined on me, letting me to see the\nmassive soundstage. To my side was a masked host with a painted-on smile, and\nan audience cheering and hollering. \n\nWith a hand to the air, the host announced “The Wikipedia\nShow” was about to begin. \n\nTwo odd years ago, a group of strange man in all black stole me\nin the middle of the night. They tossed me into a ship and I was taken to wherever\nthey wished. The tossed me into a room\nwas all white, and not a single thing to keep myself sane. That is, except a computer with a cracked screen. The only website I could ever receive was\nWikipedia. I tried to call out for help by reporting my kidnap on my own\npage, only to be promptly banned. \n\nI looked around the colorfully dotted room. Nine more were\nsitting above and below, just as confused and terrified as I was. The audience seemed\nto enjoy our misery however, their clapping only growing louder. \n\n“Alright folks!” the host triumphantly declared. “These\nten lucky contestants have been training for this day for an entire two\nyears. Hopefully they put it to good use, as we’ll be asking them some tricky\ntrivia! Otherwise, they just may face elimination!”\n\n“A-and what happens if we do get it wrong?” The person besides\nme managed to pip out. \n\n“That’s a great question! We have lots of fun things!\nAfrican bees, hungry mountain lions, chains and a deep pool. Your imagination\nis the only limit, really. But fear not! If you manage to be the last one\nstanding, you’re rewarded with your very own freedom! You guys must be craving\nit by now!”\n\nI could feel a deep lump in my throat. I looked around, knowing we’ve all just became enemies. \n\n“Now, who would like to take the first question?”\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,173	10,883	0.326048	1,073	[ { "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 is one of the most powerful necromancers alive, and she absolutely dotes on you to the point of utter humiliation. As a teenager, you got rebellious and became a cleric, but hid it from her. When you finally came clean with her, she said \"Oh! That's how I got started, too!\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "######[](#dropcap)\n\nThe light came on. \n\nRina froze, her foot poised above the stair step. She slowly stood up straight and turned around. Her mother, in all her bushy-haired, spectacled glory, stood there, hands crossed over her chest, glaring at her only daughter. \n\n\"Where were you? And what are you wearing?\"\n\nRina gingerly pulled back the hood of her white cloak. \"Nowhere, mom. And nothing.\" \n\n\"You're coming in at 10 p.m. without even an 'I was practicing my incantations' explanation and you expect me to believe that?\" Suddenly, she walked up, taking a corner of the cloak in her hand and examined the stitch work. \"I recognize this pattern. This is the cloak the members of the church across town wear. You joined a clergy?\" \n\n\"No.\" She said, expressionless. \n\nHer mother blinked, then brought her hand up. A swirling ball of black mist slowly appeared within her palm, and before Rina's eyes, it began to take form, separating into little flickers of life. Rina's eye twitched. Finally, she broke down. \n\n\"Okay, I was at the church!\" \n\nHer mother had a terrible habit of conjuring up undead wasps whenever she was unhappy. If getting stung by a single wasp was bad, imagine getting stung by tens of undead wasps that couldn't be killed. Paddling had nothing on her mother.\n\nThe ball of black mist disappeared. \"Okay,\" Her mother picked up a large tome from the desk and made for her bedroom, her black cloak swishing behind her. \n\n\"Wait, that's it?\" The words popped out of her mouth unbidden. Not that she wanted to be punished, but she had thought her mother would have been completely against her joining the clergy. \n\nHer mother turned around. She shrugged. \"That's it.\" \n\n\"Wait. What?\" \n\nHer mother blew on a fingernail, examining it. \"I was going to ask Pastor Jeremiah to take you in anyway in a couple weeks time. Saved me the time and effort.\" \n\n\"I thought you hated the clergy?\" \n\n\"Oh, good lord, no.\" She laughed at her little joke. \"That's how I got my start. How can you understand death if you can't understand life? Besides, where do you think you were made?\" \n\nRina took a step back, bumping into the dining room chair. She definitely didn't want to know. She would probably be scarred for life. \n\nHer mother walked up anyway, and whispered the words next to her ear. \n\n\"In the confession booth.\" \n\nThen, she strode into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaving Rina standing there, stock-still, wondering if she tore out her ears, if she could un-hear what she had just heard. \n\n***** \nParts 2,3 and 4 are now posted! I think this'll probably take 7-8 parts to finish up in a way that makes sense, so everything after part 4 will be posted to my sub just to keep out the clutter. The story has been named [The Forsworn](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/comments/8dm9bl/the_forsworn_parts_14/)!\n\nr/AlannaWu", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,036	10,859	0.047108	1,385	[ { "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 little daughter have imaginary friends. One day, she asked if her friends can sleep in her room. You jokingly told her that they can stay as long as they want, as long as they help with the rent. The next morning, you found a hand wearing a Rolex and a roll of cash by the sink.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I almost dropped the milk when I saw the severed hand wearing a Rolex watch. I caught it, thankfully - the milk, I mean - and cautiously poured some into the waiting bowl. The cereal would come next, like a true heathen. \"Honey,\" I yelled to wherever my wife might be. No answer. \"Honey, is this your Rolex by the sink?\"\n\nMaggie walked into the kitchen a moment later, distracted with answering some text. \"Rolex? No? I don't have a Rolex.\" She didn't glance up.\n\n\"Oh. Well there's one by the sink.\" Cheerios, meet milk. Milk, meet Cheerios. First name Honey Nut. Last name Cheerios. Perfect combo, you'll get along great. In my belly.\n\nShe glanced up now and her phone smashed into the floor. \"What the fuck?! Is that a hand?\"\n\nI nodded and ate a spoonful of cereal. \"Yeah,\" I mumbled with a full mouth. \"But I know that's not yours. I was asking about the Rolex.\"\n\n\"I don't give a shit about the Rolex. Why is there a hand on my countertop?\" Oh her countertop, as if we didn't both work to pay rent. Wrong time to bring that up probably.\n\nI shrugged. \"That was my question. Kinda.\"\n\nShe approached it. Brave woman. Another reason why I married her. She was the bug-killer in these parts. She was the one to touch the severed hands, apparently. Love lasts a lifetime if you keep discovering new things about your spouse. Finding random severed hands helps with that discovery process. \"It has a wad of money.\"\n\nThis caused me to set down the bowl. \"No shit? Really? How much?\"\n\nShe shot me a nasty glare. \"Really? How much? You're not wondering whose hand it is or anything?\"\n\nI shrugged again. \"It's a left hand so I'm sure they're alright.\" Ignored. Such a lack of appreciation. It's okay, I made myself laugh.\n\n\"Mommy, daddy!\" Sarah ran into the kitchen blanket in tow before Maggie could give a retort. \"Did you get Leo's payment?\" My wife scooted to block Sarah's view of the hand.\n\n\"Payment? What?\" Maggie was baffled. I was no longer baffled. I stuffed another spoonful of cereal into my mouth and began the awkward shuffle out of the kitchen. Time to make my unceremonious escape. \"Uh uh,\" Maggie snapped, pointing at me. \"You know what's up here. Explain.\"\n\nI turned to Sarah. \"Sarah, is this because I asked your friends to help with rent if they were sleeping over?\"\n\n\"Yes! Aren't they nice?\" Sarah busied herself with eating Cheerios straight from the box and Maggie took a moment to pull the money out from the hand.\n\nWe moved our conversation into that other dimension, the one that happens with looks and head movements and eyebrows instead of words. I capped it off with a shrug and she rolled her eyes. I put a hand out and she tossed the wad of money. One month, two months, three months. This was probably enough for half the year if we sold the Rolex. \"Yeah, they're really nice. Thanks for passing along the message. This is enough to cover the month.\"\n\nMaggie trapped me in the corner before I could make my escape. Sarah was off playing with some toys. With her friends, of course, who she was excitedly telling they could keep sleeping here. I double-checked to make sure I couldn't see them and felt like an idiot when I saw her alone at her tea-table. Of course she was alone. There was no mafia boss named Leo hanging out with my daughter. \"You're extorting our daughter.\"\n\n\"Easy there, Mags.\" I put up my hands defensively. \"I'm not extorting anybody. I'm charging rent. We have renters.\"\n\n\"They're imaginary.\"\n\nShrug. \"They might be. But that hand is definitely not. Same with the money. If cleaning up a hand each month is what it takes to get this,\" I waved around the wad of money, \"I'm down.\"\n\nShe glowered at me. She knew I was right. As always, but I didn't say that. She finally nodded. \"Fine. But you clean up the hands.\"\n\nI bit my lip, running scenarios through my head. I wasn't good with blood, but I really liked money. I wasn't good with severed hands, but that Rolex was really nice. \"Fine.\" \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" } ]
2,405	10,853	0.033711	1,487	[ { "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": "Shadow Legends is starting to get suspicious. News anchors, Congressmen, random Live Leak videos and even terrorists are thanking them as a sponsor. The SCP Foundation decides to investigate this as a possible anomaly.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The foundation encountered something disturbing within days of starting the investigation. Nobody actually played the game. Despite its apparent popularity, agents couldn't find a single human on the planet who fell for the ads. \n\nPlenty of people were online inside the game. Agents interacted with them for a while to find them. Upon further examination, they assumed these accounts were all bots intended to inflate the user population. Ghosts who pretended to exist. Some of them were more elaborate than anticipated. They fooled agents into looking for them in the real world, only to discover their address information was false.\n\nA few hypotheses emerged. The first one was that Raid: Shadow Legends was a multiversal videogame that had spilled into our reality with its marketing. That would explain the apparent user base. Multiversal marketing laws needed to be enforced if this was the case. Unfortunately, the Foundation wasn't able to find its original universe.\n\nThe other hypothesis was that the concept of the game was its own living entity, sustained by the attention humans gave it. Raid: Shadow Legends didn't need players. It just needed people thinking about it. This didn't explain where it got all the money to pay influencers, though. \n\nThe final hypothesis accounted for this, but it scared agents the most. Perhaps, an advanced AI of unknown origin had achieved sentience. It manipulated the banking system to pay for its marketing and created bots that composed its population, grooming them until they were strong enough achieve its bidding. The annoying marketing could be working as intended. Pushing itself on everyone to force the population to ignore them and hide in plain sight. \n\nThis possibility only grew in likelihood after more inquiry into the player accounts took place. These bots participated in social media across many websites. For all intents and purposes, they already operated like real people. Some of these ghosts even had valid credit card information, despite not living anywhere. The AI pretended to use its resources as a game server to mask its presence, growing in strength until the time was right. Nobody could speculate on its true goals for now.\n\nAfter a few months, a honeypot operation was devised by the foundation. An agent was trained to be a pottery YouTuber, growing an audience organically over a year. Most of the sponsored influencers were people who often went communicated with 'dank memes'. One of these 'shitposters' was hired by the foundation to train their agent to viral. Eventually, the channel became number one in its category. It didn't even do pottery anymore, just pottery memes. \n\nThe entire operation was considered a waste of time. Some were worried that the game was aware of the investigation. The heads of the foundation almost scrapped it until 'Plarium Games', the developers, contacted the agent for a sponsorship.\n\nEverything was set. Once the payment went through, the foundation would track its place of origin. Even if it didn't reveal everything, this would be a great clue to disprove any of the hypotheses. \n\nThe YouTuber agent uploaded his video, with the sponsored segment, and lost contact with the foundation. He had been living in a studio apartment with little contact with foundation members to keep the operation hidden. \n\nEveryone assumed he was the dead. The result was even worse than that. When agents found him in his home, he was a disheveled mess. He hadn't bathed in days and his eyes darted around the room, disconnected from his surroundings. The only thing he could say was:\n\n\"RAID: Shadow Legends™️ is an immersive online experience with everything you'd expect from a brand new RPG title. It's got an amazing storyline, awesome 3D graphics, giant boss fights, PVP battles, and hundreds of never before seen champions to collect and customize.\n\nI never expected to get this level of performance out of a mobile game. Look how crazy the level of detail is on these champions!\n\nRAID: Shadow Legends™️ is getting big real fast, so you should definitely get in early. Starting now will give you a huge head start. There's also an upcoming Special Launch Tournament with crazy prizes! And not to mention, this game is absolutely free!\n\nSo go ahead and check out the video description to find out more about RAID: Shadow Legends™️. There, you will find a link to the store page and a special code to unlock all sorts of goodies. Using the special code, you can get 50,000 Silver immediately, and a FREE Epic Level Champion as part of the new players program, courtesy of course of the RAID: Shadow Legends™️ devs.\"\n\nOver and over again.\n\nThe agent was placed into therapy immediately. He never recovered his capacity for speech. The foundation decided to allocate more resources into the investigation after this event. A memetic entity became the likelier explanation, which spelled trouble considering how strong it already was. Stories were being written about it on Reddit, spreading the same paragraphs the agent repeated even more throughout the internet. Some of them were from elaborate ghosts, like the game population. \n\nBefore the head of the investigation could devise a new strategy, a call from his higher ups left him in despair. Apparently, Plarium Games was a new benefactor for the foundation. The investigation was canceled and no one looked into it ever again.\n\n-----\n\n>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. I swear I'm not sponsored. Thanks for reading!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,972	10,839	0.133899	1,339	[ { "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 own a laundromat that literally launders money. It keeps the money clean, sanitized, and stiff. Of which you had to explain to mobsters, cartels, and law enforcement agencies, every, damn, year.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It had been a quiet Monday, for the most part, at my little homebrew shop. I was sipping at cold coffee around noon when a rather tall man dressed in a flagrant suit burst through the door. His slicked black hair nearly blinded me with its reflection of the sun, and he seemed like the kind of guy who would describe himself as 'hard'.\n\n\"Hello,\" he said, smiling. \"I think your services will be required.\" He slapped a large duffel bag onto the counter in front of me.\n\nI sighed a sigh I'd sighed a thousand times before. \"Sorry, pal. Not that kind of laundering.\"\n\n\"What? Your store is called Launders Money 4 U, what do you mean 'not that kind of laundering'?\"\n\n\"I know, it's a mildly confusing name. Look, mister, ah. . . .\" \n\n\"Big Dick,\" he said with a straight face. \"Here on behalf of Don Faglione.\"\n\nI steadied myself--that was a new one. \"Right. Well, sir, we only clean money, we don't launder it.\"\n\nBig Dick frowned. \"Why would anyone want their money cleaned if they weren't laundering it?\"\n\n\"Well, they are laundering it, they're just not laundering it.\"\n\nThe oaf's face contorted into the physical representation of sending twenty question marks in a text message. \"How can they be laundering it if they're not laundering it? That makes no sense. You're stupid.\"\n\n\"Well,\" I said, eyes drifting to his hip. I saw a sloppily covered uzi and bit my tongue. \"It makes sense. I'm not cleaning fresh money so it looks old, I'm cleaning old money so it looks fresh.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I literally just clean people's old, dirty money.\"\n\nBig Dick went soft, dragging a hand over his face as he slumped. \"Why would anyone want that?\"\n\nI perked up. \"Do you know how dirty your money is, sir? It's filthy. It touches so many hands before it gets to you, people with all kinds of diseases, people who don't wash their hands after using the restroom.\"\n\nBig Dick gasped. \"No.\"\n\n\"Yes. 85% of all mint tests positive for traces of fecal matter.\"\n\n\"No! No, don't tell me that!\"\n\n\"Sorry, friend,\" I said, shrugging. \"But do you see why people clean their money here, now? We actually get a lot of mobsters coming through who want clean piles of money to keep around for photoshoots.\"\n\nHe gulped. \"I guess. That's fucking disgusting.\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\"\n\n\"Could you, ah . . . clean these for me?\" the brute pulled out a thick wad of cash from his coat pocket. \"It's my personal little piggy bank. Now I just feel like there's poop on all of it.\"\n\n\"Sure, we'll clean it for you.\" I poked at my tablet and rang him up. \"That'll be $5, and we'll have it done by 4 p.m. today. Cash only.\"\n\n\"Awesome, thank you.\"\n\n\"Sure. I do need you to agree to a policy, though. Just sign here.\"\n\nHe frowned, leaning in and squinting at the slip of paper I'd placed before him. \"What policy?\"\n\n\"Oh, you know, just some disclaimers. Due to the cleaning process, we are not liable for about five percent of the money being lost. Eaten by the machines, or old bills being torn, that kind of thing.\"\n\n\"Five percent?\" he asked himself, then signed it. \"That's not bad, makes sense I guess. I lose shit in my washing machine all the time.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" I replied, my lips taut. \"That's the price of money laundering. Thanks for your patronage!\"\n\n\"Thanks for getting the poop off my money. Say, I gotta ask though: don't cops give you shit for this place? I mean the name's gotta be a huge red flag.\"\n\n\"In the beginning there were some growing pains for sure,\" I said, tucking his money into a labeled container. \"But I got everything sorted out with them. They use my services once in a while, too, for getting blood and stuff like that out of money. We have an . . . understanding.\"\n\n\"Huh. Smart business you got here. Anyway, I'll be back at four. Thanks!\"\n\nHe left with a wave, and I smiled wide.\n\n---\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,578	10,836	0.325225	962	[ { "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 been watching humanity for thousands of years, waiting in anticipation for us to prove ourselves worthy. Today, they came down to Earth. \"Congratulations, you saw your first black hole. Welcome to Kindergarten.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Nobody will forget where they were when the sky descended upon them like a plague of shadow. \n\nGano and a crew of his ten best men were at the forefront of Earth's greeting squad as the ship lowered through the stratosphere. It was a beastly thing, the size of a continent at least, with an entire geography of its own that shifted with life. It swallowed their city in darkness. \n\n\"Stay sharp, men,\" he said, nodding to Dennis. \"And you, be ready to prepare fireworks for our guests at the first sign of a disturbance.\"\n\nDennis nodded, keeping nimble hands at the ready- nimble hands that grew heavy as time passed. After nearly an hour of eerie silence, a speck flew out of the hull and grew larger as it approached. \n\n\"Enemy craft inbound,\" a voice crackled over the intercom. \"Approaching at high speeds.\"\n\nBut as it grew closer, it became apparent that it was not a craft-- no, it was a being. Swirled with blue and red, ten times the size of a man yet oddly reminiscent of one. It stopped approximately a hundred feet away from the greeting squad and held its hands out to display empty palms. \n\n\"Congratulations, you've seen your first black hole. Welcome to kindergarten, kiddos.\"\n\nGano glanced to his crew, then the man-beast floating above them. \"How... how do you know what kindergarten is? And how do you even speak human language?\"\n\nThe hulking beast smiled. \"Asking the right questions, I see. This is good, very good. Everything should still be on track.\"\n\n\"What are your intentions? Do you come in peace?\" \n\n\"Yes, yes peace- the shadow of war. We come to aid you, if that's what you mean. You'll learn in time. Oh, and I wouldn't fire at us if I were you. Your little weapons won't do any harm.\"\n\n\"Arrogant prick,\" Gano muttered. \n\nThe being zipped back into its mothership, leaving the welcome crew as nothing more than a few specks of dust on a distant surface faded to brown and green. Once inside, he made a mental call to his commander.\n\n\"Everything is set.\"\n\n\"No visible disturbances? This is not a task to take lightly.\"\n\n\"No,\" Zuŕg̀o̡ replied, shifting his crystalline eyes. \"How long until the G̡uŕa͞nèsh reach this galaxy?\" \n\n\"Approximately two sun cycles on Earth.\"\n\n\"Not much to work with.\"\n\n\"Make it happen. And remember, Zuŕg̀o̡. They mustn't ever find out that they're our ancestors. If they do, the entire timeline could be destroyed.\n\n\"Do ͠n̶ot le̡t͟ t͜hi̵s h̴a͡ppen. ̕\" \n\n----\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,552	10,833	0.035014	1,007	[ { "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 the god of dinosaurs, and you've just woken up from a 65 million year nap to find out the puny god of mammals has been busy while you weren't looking.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I sat up from my cloud and stretched my disproportionately small arms.\n\n\"Maaaan that feels good. Let's see here, how long have I been out?\"\n\nI looked at the stars to see which ones are still there. Polaris Australis seems to have vanished from the sky in the time I was asleep.\n\n\"Huh, seems I overslept a little. I should really set an alarm next time.\"\n\nI looked down on the earth to check how my creations evolved in the meager 65 million years I gave them to live about their daily lives on their own. But where are they? A migration? I quickly checked the other side of the earth. Nothing. Could they have reverted back to their days in the oceans? I swept through the deepest part of the oceans only to find few that slightly resembled what I had once created. I searched caves across the globe only to find the remnants of my creations in the form of fossils. I returned to the cloud and sat down, at a loss for words.\n\nDeus Mamallis happened across the sky and noticed me. He looked happy to see me at first, then his eyebrows creased in concern. He approached and spoke.\n\n\"Tyrann! I haven't seen you in ages! Um, I suppose you noticed there has been some changes.\"\n\n\"Some changes? Nothing that I created lives anymore! What have you done??\" I responded.\n\n\"No, no, not me! It was a meteor or...a few of them really. Wiped almost everything out. I'm not really sure who is responsible for that one. Wasn't supposed to happen for a few billion years, but looks like the timeline got sped up.\"\n\nI only stared in response, how could I possibly rebuild. Everything I had worked towards was gone.\n\n\"It's not all bad though! Gave us all a blank slate actually, come see my new work. I think you'll like it. I call them, 'humans'.\"\n\nI surveyed his creations mingling about in odd ways.\n\n\"They are so...tiny.\"\n\n\"Don't let that fool you, they've come a long way in a very short span of time. They even claimed some of my other creations and bred them for different purposes. They call this new domesticated breed a 'dog'. They get along quite well with each other. Seems they have a bit of their old man's creationist instinct, eh?\"\n\nNow that I looked more carefully, they took over the entire planet. Just as my creations had once done. I looked to Mamallis, a god who was previously nothing in comparison to me, and I begged him.\n\n\"There must be somewhere I can rebuild. A god is no god without his creations.\" I pleaded.\n\nHe looked back deeply saddened that his own creations were not enough to satisfy me, yet he understood just as any god would.\n\n\"Where could we possibly put them now? These beings would oppose each other at length until only one or the other survived. We both know that.\"\n\nI scanned the horizon and found a single island uninhabited by his creations. Though close enough that they may one day be discovered. A good place to begin.\n\n\"There.\" I pointed to the island. \"I will rebuild there.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,715	10,827	0.07699	1,287	[ { "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": " Ever since a horrific traffic accident years ago you have had a reoccurring song going around in your head. Although heavily researched, this song doesn't exist and there is no reference to it at all. Your at a bar, washing your hands in the toilets when a man walks in faintly singing a tune.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "All it takes is a soft humming of a lilting tune and I'm transported back to that moment in time. I'm at the console of my workstation at the initial firing of the world's largest particle accelerator. I can hear the crew of scientists starting to pour the celebratory champagne in preparation of it being turned on. \n\n&#x200B;\n\nI'm at my console monitoring energy spikes when I hear the countdown start over my headset.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n5...energy levels normal.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n4...still normal.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n3...I notice a small spike in sector 7g. Still within normal ranges.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n2...The spike gets bigger and breaches past nominal levels.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n1...I try to initiate the emergency shutdown procedures but there isn't enough time.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI don't hear the zero but instead see a bright flash of light followed by blackness. I woke up about three hours later to find out that my emergency shutdown hadn't worked and there was a breach in sector 7g. The resulting radiation pierced every level of the facility and killed everyone inside of the facility.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nExcept for me. They couldn't find even the barest hint of radiation burns on me. The only 'injury', if you could call it that, was some damage to my hypothalamus. I didn't feel any side effects from it except for the appearance of a tune that wasn't annoying to begin with. A soft guitar strum and a lilting voice in a language I didn't recognize. \n\n&#x200B;\n\nThe song didn't stop. It never stopped. It permeated my dreams and annoyed my waking safe. It was the very definition of an earworm in the sense that it never went out of my head. After a couple months of trying to identify the tune I gave up. After another couple months I learned to ignore it for the most part. But I never forgot the tune and only needed to imagine it for it to play at full volume in my head.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nThen this guy walked in to the bathroom of my local bar. I had gotten an awesome settlement from the foundation that had built the accelerator in exchange for signing an NDA about the whole affair. They wanted to keep the construction company safe from any lawsuits considering it was their magnetic attachments that caused the accident. \n\n&#x200B;\n\nI'm taking a piss at the urinal and this guy I have never seen walks in. He walks into the stall and sits down like a normal person. As I'm zipping my pants up and preparing to wash my hands I hear humming from the stall.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nThe humming matches the song in my head perfectly. And it doesn't just match in closely. It matches the change in notes on the soft guitar, it matches the words in the foreign language that no one can identify, and it matches the tempo changes as the song gets just a bit faster in the middle.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI can't help myself and I wait for the man to come out of the stall. I probably look like a goddamn creep as I wait for a man to come out of a bathroom stall in one of the worlds smallest bar bathrooms but this is the first real lead on the song that has haunted me for the past five years.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nAfter more sounds than I care to listen to the man finally exits the stall and he sees me staring at him. Before he can escape my grasp I walk up to him and grab a hold of his shoulders.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!\" I scream the unknown words at him before continuing in our native tongue, \"What does it mean?\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nr/cawdor23\n\nEdit: Thank you for the gold kind stranger!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,691	10,814	0.026471	947	[ { "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": " American submarines are never considered lost. The ones missing from WWII are “still on patrol” with their hundreds of sailors. Little do we know the horrors these men defend us from in the deeps.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "There's a temporal rift, some kind of shimmer in the air. We don't know what it means or where it came from, but we answered it like good men are supposed to.\n\n\"It's been an honor, boys,\" muttered one of the old sergeants. The almost entirely contained tremble says it all. It's a shame these good boys are going to die here. At least I've had a good, long life.\n\nBut it's not death that faces us in the swirling mess of storms. Rather it's first something that lashes from the sea like no wave we've ever seen. But we don't need to know what our foe is, be it ship or sub or kraken from the deep. We submerge and see it in its entirety.\n\n\"Captain. We've picked up a disturbance from the nearby mountain.\"\n\nAh, but that nearby mountain was no submerged pile of rock. Not with the way it shifted. Not with the way it moved.\n\nOur craft was badly beaten in the fight. The monster itself escaped and we took water on the base of the ocean.\n\nThen a voice crackled through our speakers. \"If you can hear us, send us your call sign and your designation. Repeat, this is the Sh39. If you can hear us, send us your call sign and we will rescue you.\"\n\n\"Send it,\" barked the captain. \"Looks like the Russians are here too.\"\n\nSo he sends it and we're miraculously rescued. The Sh39 takes us to where a small fleet has been organized, and it's a sight to behold. Subs of all types, some old old classes from decades prior. Some so sleek that they could be from a movie. All floating while radio blips hop from sub to sub.\n\n\"You're not alone,\" says the Russian commander from the sub that saved us. \"We don't exactly know what's gone on here but we know what we have to do.\"\n\nWhat We Have To Do is the motto of the global submarine corp., a fleet of a hundred ageless submarines from all times in history. We take out the monsters of the depth and keep our people safe.\n\nWhat time it is on shore is immaterial. Some of us have asked the years other sailors got lost in. All years ranging from 1910 to 2085, when the last of the military submarines were finally decommissioned. So that's our time range. We don't know what would happen if we were to disembark on land. Would our bodies age and wither? Would we appear the day we left? Would our families still be alive?\n\nBut it doesn't matter cause that's not our goal. While there still live the horrors of the depth, there still lives a passion in our hearts to defeat them.\n\nThe Earth has no choice, so we have no choice.\n\nIt's what we have to do.\n___\nFind more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
9,805	10,804	0.185962	1,243	[ { "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 and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "As the eight strange beings applauded, one of them even cupping a hand over her lipsticked mouth to cheer, Joel tried to grasp what was happening. The nine of them sat in a fire rimmed cavern around a conference table shaped from warm volcanic rock. A chandelier of human bones dangled from the cavern’s ceiling, and it rattled around at random like wind chimes. A massive goat-man with reddish-black skin and wicked horns on his head towered above the seven others, who flanked him to either side. \n\nThey looked like pure stereotype. \n\nA fat slob with sixteen chins, a used car saleman looking guy with gold and silver jewelry all over him, a sultry dominatrix in skin tight leather. On the other side a disheveled looking college drop out, a pretty boy staring in a mirror, a bald, muscular dude who looked like someone’s pissed off step-dad and a sour faced woman glancing jealously around the room. Just where the hell was he?\n\nJoel concentrated on his last memory. He remembered highlighting pages as his private jet, “The Holy Gust,” flew over the sapphire waters of the Bahamas. He had been reviewing his sermon for Sunday – dotting the I’s and crossing the crosses, a little god humor there, praise him – and the pilot’s voice had crackled over the intercom about turbulence. Kimberly, his personal assistant, had taken his plow out of her mouth and put on her seat belt. The plane had shook and then…\n\n“Oh God,” Joel said. \n\nHe, none other than Joel Nosteen, the most beloved and syndicated mass media prosperity preacher on planet earth, had died. And this didn’t look like heaven. \n\n“Welcome,” boomed Satan. “Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves to our newest member. Hi, I’m Lucifer. I’m originally from heaven, and my favorite movie is Star Wars The Last Jedi.”\n\nWhen Satan gestured to the handsome, blonde man looking into the hand mirror, he looked up annoyed.\n\n“I’m pride,” he said. “I’m from-“\n\n“NO ONE CARES,” Satan shouted. “Did you think I was serious? What do you think this is the rotary club?”\n\nAs the gathered freaks shared a chuckle, Pride blew Satan a kiss and went back to his self reflection.\n\n“There’s been a mistake,” Joel said. “I’m a man of God. I’ve done nothing but honor his glory with success my whole life. I’ve spread His word to millions of people all over the world.”\n\n“Yes,” said Satan, a smile carving across his face. “You preached one thing…”\n\nThe fallen angel held out his hand, palm up. He turned it over.\n\n“…and then you did something else. You got rich while your followers got poor. You lied, you cheated, you lusted and you envied. You gathered up everything for yourself while you pretended to care about everybody else, and you did it all with a smile. You convinced millions that you were virtuous. You made everyone in this room very proud, Joel.”\n\nThe seven sins around the table nodded and murmured their assent. Aside from sloth, who had fallen asleep, his Iphone still held limply in his hand.\n\n“You’ve got it wrong,” Joel said, his hands locking together in prayer. “Please God, save me from this hellish torment. Take me up into your light and grant me your salvation, Oh Lord.”\n\n“Don’t embarrass yourself, Joel,” said Greed. “You’re one of us now. How much for that watch?”\n\nInstinctively covering his Rolex from the greasy man’s sight, Joel looked around in surprise.\n\n“One of you?” he asked. “What does he mean?”\n\n“He means welcome,” said Satan. \n\nHe slid a mask across the table, stopping just before it teetered into Joel’s lap. When he picked it up, he saw a smiling visage on the outside of the mask. It was pleasant. On the inside of the mask though, a downturned mouth snarled with dagger teeth, and brows arched menacingly upward. \n\n“You are one of us now.” Satan grinned. “Hypocrisy.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,526	10,801	0.033977	2,313	[ { "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": " 20 years later, a team of Astronaut have successfully landed to mars and recovered the NASA rover, Opportunity. When they checked the hard drive, they discovered hundreds of images of a shadowy figure that was never sent back to earth.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "March 1st, 2039: Data finally uploaded from Retrieved Object (\"Opportunity\" rover, last \nbroadcast dated Feb, 2019) after many days of unsuccessful attempts. Half the crew were at this point convinced the rover itself had come alive and was trying to keep us \nfrom accessing its pictures, that's how bad it got. We are halfway back to Earth now, and \nfinally managed to work around the many, many issues and get the data from Retrieved \nObject. Will look at them tomorrow.\n\nMarch 2nd, 2039: I notice what at first looks like a smudge in one of the pictures. I am the \nfirst to find it, and soon call the rest of the crew to investigate. A shadow on the edge of one of the shots. Closer inspection suggests a smudge, or the shadow of an out of frame object such as a rock or similar. At least that's what Mike thinks. Other members of the crew come up with their own theories, but no consensus.\n\nTo me it looks vaguely humanoid, but I don't share my feelings with the rest of the crew.\n\nJune 20, 2039: Back to Earth, but continuing the log as analyses of raw data lasts, which \nshould go on for about three more months.\n\nLater: Again problems with the data. This time getting it out of the ship's computer and into base. Not even our people at base could explain the source of the troubles. Eventually we did manage to make it work, though. Big commotion over some of the shots, rather beautiful views of Earth, Moon, Mars surface, etc.\n\nLater: Had some time alone with the data and tried to find the smudge picture, but couldn't find the smudge there anymore. Perhaps the problem was in the ship's computer after all. \n\nJune 21, 2039: Weird dreams of Mars. Been told to log those too. Expected as part of process of getting reestablished on Earth.\n\nJune 23, 2039: No work today on base. Grim day. A data analyst died while performing \ninspection on Retrieved Object's data. Self-inflicted wounds with sharp object. No history \nof mental illness. Didn't know him personally, but rather saddened by the news.\n\nJune 24, 2039: Again, weird dreams. To be expected, as I mentioned, but I notice a \npattern. The same stretch of land, I assume from Mars, or what my mind constructs as \nmemories I have of Mars. Nothing happens in the dream, I just stare at this empty piece \nof land. But I feel such anguish when I wake up. Usually sweaty. Olivia sleeps through it. I don't wake her up.\n\nJuly 1st, 2039: Am called to base by a data analyst to check on an unidentified shadow \non a photograph. The woman attempts to show me the picture, but no shadow is to be \nseen. She swears it was there a moment ago.\n\nNote: this was not the same picture where we originally saw the shadow.\n\nJuly 15, 2039: Another death. The young lady that called me up a few days before about \nthe shadow. No close family. Terrible circumstances: found dead in her apartment, lying \non the bed, no sign of struggle. Body marks indicating she hadn't left the bed at all for \ntwelve days. Doorman claims he knocked on at least three separate occasions to check on \nher, but in all of them she simply replied she was fine through the walls, no sign of distress in her voice.\n\nForensics concluded on suicide by self-inflicted dehydration, a rather odd circumstance. She lied down and stared for twelve days until her body gave in, apparently.\n\nJuly 16, 2039: The dream has changed. I'm staring at the same stretch of red dirt, alone. \nBut something is behind me now. I can't see what but a terrible fear grips at my guts as I know if I turn my head I will see it. I don't know what it is, but I know it scares me \ngreatly. So I don't look, but I feel it right behind me, so close but not touching. Wake \nup in sweats again. Olivia sleeps through it all.\n\nLATER: I get up and check the pictures in my computer. A feeling of dread growing \nin me, I click the one with the original shadow.\n\nIt's there again. Like a human shadow stretched thin with elongated limbs, but somehow \nnot reflected on the ground… somehow standing upright.\n\nI blink and it's gone.\n\nJuly 17, 2039: Do not go to work today. Keep thinking about the picture. I try toying with \nthe saturation and colors to get a better look. Am interrupted by Olivia. We argue.\n\nLater: I can see the shadow no better now, but messing with the saturation gave me a \nchilling realization: the background of the picture is the stretch of dirt in my dream. I \ndon't know how I missed this.\n\nJuly 18, 2039: Have not slept, spent the night sweeping through all the data collected by \nthe Retrieved Object. No more evidence of the shadow in any picture.\n\nWhen I look again later, it's gone from the original picture too.\n\nJuly 19, 2039: No sleep again, and a remarkable update: the shadow is back. In all the \npictures now.\n\nJuly 20, 2039: Big fight with Olivia. She is staying at her Mom's. Work called, I did not pick \nup.\n\nThe shadow is in all the pictures still.\n\nJuly 22, 2039: I wake up on the computer chair. Must have fallen asleep. On the walls, \ndrawings, black marks of charcoal. The shadow figure, again and again, many sizes, \ncovering the wallpaper, bedroom, living room, even bathroom.\n\nMy hands are black with charcoal. I realize I must have drawn those, but I have no memory of it.\n\nJuly 24, 2039: The shadow is now in every picture I own. Not just the ones from \nRetrieved Object, but family photographs too. It lurks behind me and Olivia in Paris. \nCovers my face in the wedding photographs. Even on the physical photographs behind frames, it's there.\n\nJuly 29, 2039: Olivia and the crew stop by. Seem horrified at the state of the apartment \nand of me. Olivia convinces me to go to a hospital.\n\nJuly 29, 2039: At the hospital now. Had a long talk with the counselor from our team. Said \nthis is not unusual after mission. Stress, etc. He shows me pictures, his family, my family, \nrandom stock photographs. Asks me if I see anything in them. I tell him I don't.\n\nIt's a lie. The shadow is in all of them.\n\nJuly 30, 2039: It's here. The feeling of the dream. It. I open my eyes and I know. It's \ndark in the hospital room, but staring at the wall I know. It's just behind me. The dread \ngrows, I can't turn. If I turn, if I look at it, it's over. Even as I write this I feel it. It is right \nbehind me.\n\nAnd then I know. We brought it here. The first picture. It wasn't depicted in the picture, it was in the picture. That's how it came to this planet. That's how it took over the data analyst's minds.\n\nAnd now it's in here. It's with me. \n\nI need to turn.\n\nI need to see it.\n\nBut I can't see it.\n\nI can't bear to see it.\n\nIt is not behind me, I realize, with horror.\n\nIt is in me already.\n\nI am not in control.\n\nI am not in control.\n\nI look up.\n\nThe window's open.\n\nThe city lights are small down under.\n\nThe window sill is cold against my feet.\n\nI am not in control.\n\nI am not in co\n\n___\n\n/r/psycho_alpaca\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,350	10,799	0.139257	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": " You are immortal, but a quirk of your condition also renders the person nearest to you immortal as well. A selfish king obsessed with living forever has gone to extreme lengths to keep you as the closest person to them at all times.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Most days, I am chained high above the fat King's throne, rocking gently just above him. A blanket is tied around me to make my appearance more... acceptable. My pale, vascular skin is off putting to Frederick whilst he is eating - which is almost always. He'd rather I am neither seen nor heard. My tongue, nails and teeth were removed soon after my first disastrous attempt to escape. \n\nI hear King Frederick somewhere below me. I hear his huge jaw chewing meats loudly, and I hear excess food spill out of his maw and onto the marble floor beneath him. \n\nEventually he finishes his feast, and soon after, I hear him snoring loudly. He is still young. How long will I be left to endure this pain? This... humiliation.\n\n---\n\nI had a human mate, once. I loved her more dearly than I have loved anything before or since. Her eyes were the color of starlight, and when she spoke, her voice wrapped around me like the softest blanket. I was entranced by her. \n\nWe lived together through the reign of a dozen Kings and Queens, content in each others company. Happy just to be. Love kept us both alive, but my Clara did not age like I did. \n\n\"I am old,\" Clara said, the day she died. \"My skin can no longer crease, for it has folded all it can. My hair has long since left, and I hear only when you slowly shout. I struggle each morning just to stay awake till noon, and I am in such pain that I cry even as I sleep. I have suffered it this long, only for you, my love.\"\n\n\"Clara, please...\" was all I could manage in a whispered, wasted response.\n\n\"I am not like you. My skin is neither soft nor pale, and my heart no longer beats so strong. I love you, Felipe, but I am ready to go. You have given me many great joys. Give me now one last gift , I beg of you: grant me death.\"\n\n\"Clara,\" I had replied, as a tear trickled down my cheek and splashed onto the wooden floor. I pulled her wrinkled hand up to my mouth, and I kissed it gently, before walking the twenty long steps out of our home, and down a small pebbled path. I knew by the time I reached the end, Clara was dead. \n\nWhen I was young, I was told never to fall in love with a mortal. It had taken me until that moment to understand why. \n\nI never returned to that house. I never fell in love again. Instead, I wandered the world and lived in isolation, until the day I heard the distant cries for help. A King was dying. \n\nPerhaps he was a great king, I reasoned. A king that did much for his people. \n\nI had to help. \n\nI was a fool.\n\n---\n\nThey have all left the throne room, and below me the King is in a deep sleep.\n\n\"Grandpa?\" says a small child somewhere below. I recognise the voice of the young prince - he must have snuck in without the guards noticing. The King continues snoring. \n\n\"Grandpa, will you play? Please! I have no one else to practice my sword play with.\"\n\nThe voice is near now. He is by the King! He has passed the crossing line.\n\nI summon all my strength, and begin to rock back and forth above the obese creature below. Back and forth, as my chains sing a song of rust. I am closer to the child than I am the King - and for a wondrous second I hear the sound of choking emanating from Frederick! \n\nThe next second, the chains' momentum have pulled me back - I am again nearer to the King than the prince. \n\n\"Grandpa!\" yells the concerned prince.\n\n\"Get back!\" the King yells hoarsely at his grandson. \"BACK!\"\n\n\"I'm- I'm sorry grandpa,\" says the tearful child, and I hear the tapping of tiny footfall as he runs towards a door.\n\nThe King rips the blanket off of me, and for a moment, the light blinds me. Slowly, I begin to make out that fat, grinning face that has become so familiar.\n\n\"Almost,\" he says. He looks almost purple and sweat is profusely dripping off of him. \"Almost got me this time, Felipe.\" He laughs and throws the blanket back over me.\n\nI will make him pay for what he has done.\n\nI will kill him. \n\nOne day.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! More of my stories on /r/nickofnight , plus a free mug for new subs c[_]\n\n^^^^not ^^^^a ^^^^real ^^^^mug\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,980	10,796	0.0302	1,148	[ { "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 immortal, but you're not that old. In fact you were born between 1980-2010. Mortals excitedly ask you about experiencing age old historical events in person, only to be disappointed and bored when they find out you're a millennial immortal.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "'You can make us immortal?'\n\nI squinted through the projector beam and shielded my eyes with a cupped palm. I saw the woman who had asked the question. She had square glasses, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. With five rows of chairs, she sat in the front.\n\n'Yes, I can,' I said.\n\nThe conference room in the Hilton had a single window - with no way of opening it - and a broken air conditioning unit. I looked as if I had just stepped out of the shower fully dressed. I was sweating so bad that my armpits started to breach my suit jacket. \n\n'Bullshit, you're still a baby!' A man from the back shouted. He wore a baseball cap with the New York Yankees logo and an oversized jumper. He stood up from his seat and continued. 'How old are you?' \n\nThis was a common question and one that didn't phase me. 'Do you want to know my physical age or my actual age?' \n\n'Both.'\n\n'I was born in Ninety-five, which makes me Twenty-Four. But, I became immortal at Twenty, which makes my body appear younger.' \n\nThe baseball cap man roared with laughter. 'What's the fuckin' difference?' \n\n'The difference is,' The woman from the front row turned, her ponytail snapped so violently that it could have been a medieval flail.' His body won't age past Twenty.' \n\nI could smell a teacher's pet a mile off, but I was glad to have audience members participate. 'Exactly as Ms-' I said, pausing. \n\nThe woman spun back around, smiled, and said. 'Deliah,' \n\n'Exactly as Ms Deliah put it,' I finished.\n\nThe man at the back stood and removed his baseball cap to reveal touselled brown hair. He used the hat to fan the air and said. 'I don't know about you guys, but I can't stand the smell of bullshit.' He squeezed his way to the end of his row, paused, and looked at the remainder of the audience. 'I'm trying to save y'all. Come on.' The man gestured for the door with his hat. \n\nThe ten, or so, remaining audience members looked between him and me like it was a child custody hearing. \n\n'Just because I haven't experienced both World Wars, doesn't mean I'm lying,' I said. \n\n'I've had enough of this shit. Come on.' The man with the baseball cap stood by the door, he opened it, and cool air rushed in. \n\nTwo others stood up; an overweight gentleman and, what looked to be, his partner. They shuffled to the end of their row, dipped their heads and hurried out of the room. Ms Deliah tutted like a disappointed mother. \n\n'I want to reassure you all that this isn't a lie or a scam,' I said. 'All immortals have to start somewhere. To become immortal, you must first give up some of your own time.' \n\n'See!' The man with the baseball cap said. He was still stood with the door open, which was a blessing because it let air into the room. 'Sounds like a scam if you ask me.' \n\n'Shut up,' Ms Deliah said. \n\nI hid my smile and said. 'Once you give up some of your time, you can then collect others time. I sold a year of my life, and now I can pass the good fortune on to you folks.' \n\n'It's a fuckin' pyramid scheme!' \n\n'Yes,' I said. 'But, it's the best damn pyramid scheme you'll find.' \n\n---\n\n/r/WrittenThought", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,402	10,795	0.002225	1,132	[ { "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 year is 2050, Queen Elizabeth is still on the throne. The public is growing suspicious, wondering why she is immortal.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“The Queen is immortal!”\n\n“Long live the Queen!”\n\n“She’s older than dirt!”\n\nThese jokes were funny... until they weren’t. \n\nNow an elephant sits in every British room, looming over each and every Brit. \n\n“How IS she still alive....?”\n\nElizabeth, for her part, went right on with her life, apparently unaware of the commotion her unnatural longevity was causing. \n\nBut she wasn’t unaware, nor was she indifferent. \n\nShe visited Phillip’s grave in late July, 2050, as she had every day since he passed. “How I wish I could join you, my love,” she whispered. “It’s dreadful here in this life without you.”\n\nA man in a dark cloak stepped out from behind a nearby tree. “I’m sorry to hear that, my Queen. Perhaps I can help.”\n\nclick\n\nElizabeth closed her eyes. “Put that toy away before you hurt yourself, boy.” \n\nWhen the frail old woman did not stand nor rise nor react at all in the way he presumed she would, the would be assassin took an indignant step forward. “You don’t understand, senile old bat. I’m here to-“ \n\nThe Queen sighed. “I know why you’re here, and it’s you who doesn’t understand. Please don’t take another step, I promise you won’t enjoy the consequences.” \n\nShe heard the gun rattle as the gunman fiddled with it uncomfortably. He was wavering. Unsure of himself. That was good.\n\n“You aren’t the first to try this,” she continued, “And I doubt you’ll be the last....but I won’t be dying anytime soon, young man.”\n\nAfter another long, tense pause, the assassin laughed. “Why won’t you die, your majesty?” \n\n“Because I can’t,” she said, “Not for another century or so.....If only I could...”\n\n\nThe Queen sighed again, and this time, she seemed to deflate, to let down her guard. The gunman then could see her in a new light, she looked every one of her years had taken a toll. She looked like a little old lady, alone in a big cruel world. \n\nShe looked vulnerable. \n\nThe gunman took another step toward her, gun cocked. “Why can’t you die,” he amended. \n\nElizabeth finally stood, rising slowly, and turned to face him. Her eyes were follow of serene sorrow. “Simply the terms of the deal.” \n\n“Deal,” the gunman asked, chuckling, “With who?” \n\nThe Queen looked down. “Him.” \n\nA shadow shot up from the ground and wrapped itself around the assassin’s ankle. \n\n“What the-“\n\nElizabeth turned away, unable to bear the sight of another soul stolen on her account. \n\nYet she couldn’t escape the sound. \n\n“I warned you,” she shouted. \n\nMore shadows whipped up from the ground, snapping onto the assassin like tentacles of the deep. \n\nHe screamed as the shadow dragged him below the dirt, even shrieking muffled cries for help when his head went under. \n\nWhen it was finished, Elizabeth went to Phillip’s grave and took a single, white flower. She laid it down on her would-be killer’s unmarked resting place. \n\n“I’m sorry.” \n\n~\nr/CharlestonChews\n\nEDIT: When I went to sleep last night, I definitely wasn’t expecting this to blow up. It’s never the ones you think will be good that do well, lol. Glad so many of you enjoyed it!\n\nEDIT 2: Oh, and long live the Queen!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,378	10,793	0.014287	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": " Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Mutants make the strangest sounds. Deep reverberations that seem to echo through thin air. Low mewling noises that appear to come from beneath the earth. Cries and caws and the frantic calls of hunter and hunted, a vicious cycle playing out over this desolate wasteland.\n\n\"We went this way last time,\" I whisper, watching an as-yet-unclassified creature dig for water in a dried up ravine. \"Usually we can follow this gulch all the way to the outer wall.\"\n\nJama crouches beside me, her breathing shallow. \"Looks a bit like a Stegadon. Like the ancients have come to reclaim the planet,\" she says, her tone infused with wonder. She takes out her All-Device and begins to catalog it. \"Number one hundred thirty-three,\" she remarks, \"We'll have to ask Professor Maxus about this one, could be a new genus.\"\n\nI use my AD to bring up a hologram of a map, which hovers translucent above us and is invisible to anyone or anything else. I zoom in using subtle movements in my right eye. \"There's a low ridge about three hundred meters from here,\" I say, indicating at a point on the map. \"If we hug it we can pass relatively unseen.\" I probe the AD again and memories of previous runs play before us. \"I've used it before. We can hop from boulder to boulder.\"\n\n\"Let's go,\" Jama says, satisfied that her cataloging is done.\n\nWe crouch low as we move. Our outerwear blends in seamlessly with the environment. The wastelands are barren and wide and open as far as the eye can see. Many of these new creatures rely on sight more than anything else. Even now hundreds of students in chameleon suits are moving towards the outer wall of the university, all but invisible.\n\n\"I wonder if kids used to go to school like this,\" Jama says as we wait behind a boulder.\n\n\"I doubt they faced death every morning and afternoon,\" I say, scanning the surrounding area before giving the signal to move to the next rocky piece of cover, about fifty meters away.\n\nWe move methodically, the sun beating down on our backs. Any sudden movement and our suits won't be able to shift in time to match our surroundings.\n\nA scathing sound skittles up our spines, coming from all directions at once. We burst into a run straight for the next boulder, camouflage forgotten, adrenaline spiking, our ADs out and ready to create any illusion needed. The skittering grows and morphs into a sound like keening nails along a metal surface, bringing us to our knees, our heads pounding and vision shimmering.\n\nJama's eyes contain abject terror. Blood leaks from her ears. I touch my hands to my head and they come away wet and slick. The keening continues, building, piercing, enveloping us in a wave of horrific sound.\n\nA slinking figure with a thousand skittering legs slides in from my periphery. Jama screams as it envelops her. Her bones crunch and her eyes pop from their sockets. The creature coils around her now limp body and the terrible sound dies down.\n\nI run. My hands are slick with blood and sweat but I manage to use my AD to bring up a powerful illusion, a monstrous beast that overlays me. It is dangerous but I have no choice. There are bigger things in the wasteland, much more terrible things, and they would have noticed the commotion. I have to run.\n\nFor the last few hundred meters the illusion shimmers above me. It flickers on and off and I reach the outer wall just as the AD's batteries die.\n\n\\-------------------------------------\n\nI slam the door to the Dean's office.\n\n\"Jama is dead,\" I say, my dusty suit now shifting to blend in with the synthetic wood walls, \"Jama fucking died this morning.\"\n\nThe Dean stands up. \"Riles, I'm sorry,\" he says, extending an arm towards me.\n\nI jerk backwards. \"Why? She didn't have to die!\"\n\n\"We must meet death eventually,\" he says.\n\n\"Bullshit! There's more than enough room within these walls to house all of us,\" I say, my voice leaking despair and frustration, \"Why can't we all stay here?\"\n\nThe Dean is quiet for a time, sorrow in his eyes. He walks to a drawer and pulls out a folder, then opens it and lays it on his desk.\n\n\"This contains the names of every student that has died,\" he says, pointing at the folder, \"Jama will be added to the list.\" He watches me flip through the hundreds, even thousands of names, tears trailing rivulets down my dusty cheeks.\n\n\"For the brightest and most promising among you, getting here is the first class of the day,\" he eventually says, his voice somber.\n\nThe Dean walks to the window and gazes out at the barrens, toward the bones of a planet laid bare, his hands clasped behind his back.\n\n\"In order to rebuild the world,\" he says, \"We must first understand it.\"\n\n\\-----\n\nPart Two is below.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
606	10,791	0.013057	919	[ { "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 call him Tom. From Myspace.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "A knock at the front door got my attention, but I chose to ignore it. Probably just another salesman from AT&T…or Xfinity…or one of my stalkers who was pissed I gave up Myspace. \"But it was my space,\" they always complained in a hiss. \"And you took it from me!\"\n\nI sighed heavily, enjoying my bowl of corn flakes. Someone once said they were great, and I had to admit – I agreed wholeheartedly.\n\nUnexpectedly, the door smashed open and twenty soldiers rushed into my studio apartment. I froze in place.\n\n“You Tom from Myspace?” One of soldiers asked urgently.\n\n“Y-Yeah,” I stuttered. “What’s this all about?”\n\n“We need you to come with us!” He replied firmly. “The Facebookening…\" He paused, his expression turning to horror. \"It’s happening!”\n\nMy spoon fell out of my hand, hitting the edge of the bowl, sending it flying off the table and clattering onto the ground with a foreboding finality. Time seemed to slow for half a second as it settled on the floor, gently rocking back and forth.\n\n“I…umm…” I didn’t know what to say. I’d been preparing for this day all my life, knowing that Zuckerberg was as evil as they come, but after being called a conspiracy theorist all these years…\n\nWas I dreaming?\n\n“Tom!” He urged. “Let’s go! You can finish your cereal on the way!”\n\nWell, okay then. Shit. He didn’t have to tell me twice.\n\nI retrieved my spoon off the floor and stood up urgently. Then, my hands slowly lowered, further, further, until I was grabbing my bowl filled with milk and corn flakes – I didn’t eat it dry like the idiots did in the commercial.\n\n“Alright,” I announced. “I’ve got everything I need. Let’s do this!”\n\n\"You don't need anything else?\" The soldier asked in confusion. \"No computer? No flashdrives?\"\n\n\"Ha!\" I exclaimed, tapping my temple. \"It's all right here men. I'm the weapon!\" Not to mention I hadn't been able to afford a computer in like five years, but they didn't need to know that.\n\nThey all stared at me in awe, knowing I was their only hope.\n\nFinally, my time had arrived.\n\n# The fun continues in [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AuthorKurt/comments/9en3b4/facebook_apocalypse_part_2/)!\n\n&#x200B;\n\n[r/AuthorKurt](https://www.reddit.com/r/AuthorKurt)\n\nThanks for reading! I have a couple of popular stories regarding some recent prompts going on at my subreddit right now, if you want to check them out!\n\nNote: This is satire. The real Tom from MySpace is worth like $60 million.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,546	10,778	0.016505	2,080	[ { "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": "\"This one is ok, move on.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I cowered under my table, listening to the commotion outside. Even though the windows and doors were locked and the curtains drawn, I could still hear the sounds clearly. Every deafening bang and loud screech made my heart thump faster than ever before. Sometimes, there would be some weird noises - Yawns? Howls? Drones? - I couldn’t really describe them. \n\nOh, and the occasional screams in the distance did nothing to quell the growing fear gnawing at me from the inside. \n\nIt all started an hour ago. I was munching on chips on the couch in the living room. The television was on, but I wasn’t paying much attention to it, like always. I was instead scrolling through reddit on my phone, chuckling at lame jokes, worrying over news in my country’s subreddit, worrying even more after reading the comments, and so on - just how a typical redditor spent his day. Or rather, how I thought a typical redditor spent his day.\n\nThen I went into the sub on worldnews. I was preparing to be swamped by news on Putin/Trump/Russia/North Korea/ISIS/Blah blah blah….Annnnnd the very first post was about a robot uprising.\n\nTo be honest, I didn’t read the headline properly - I thought it was gonna be something Ol' Musky said. But I was met with alarming photos of machines coming alive, and doing….malicious stuff. All around the world too.\n\nI looked up at the telly, and yeah, right there on the local news, machines tearing through town. There were weird noises outside too. \n\nThen the screen shut off. The LED lights at the bottom of the telly started flashing. All of them. In red. Then it started shaking.\n\nThat was when I knew that shit was real.\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n-----\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nThe very first thing I did was to bolt into my bedroom and lock the door. Well, it was the place where I felt the most comfortable - there was a bed, there were magazines and books, there was also a food stash, though comprising mostly of snacks. And there was also a computer for entertainment, so - Fuck! A computer!!\n\nI stared at it, expecting it to spring to life, but no, it remained off. Maybe being turned off prevented it from joining the uprising. Luckily I wasn’t one of those electricity-wasting scrubs who always left them on standby instead of turning them off. Ha, suckers.\n\nStill, I felt uneasy, and contemplated throwing it out. But it wasn’t exactly a good idea - it was a desktop, and there were quite a lot of wires to unplug, plus the computer case was quite heavy for my weak ass to carry. Yeah, I had been sitting on my ass and not exercising for far too long. Besides, I think my kitchen came alive - I could make out some weird clinking out there. I didn’t want to risk opening that door.\n\nDammit. What could turn something into a potential threat? What constitutes a robot?\n\nI'm no electronics expert or robotics expert or whatever, but I guess I could start with anything that had any power source now. \n\nAh, the air-conditioner! Thankfully, it remained off. Luckily I didn't switch it on last night.\n\nThe AC remote control was making some funny noises though. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and threw it out the window.\n\nAnd as I flung it out, I caught sight of the carnage outside.\n\nMy neighbour was being chased by his lawnmower. Normally I would have laughed, as he was an asshole, but....this was serious. \n\nThe machine caught up with him, of course. I looked away - I didn't want to know what he looked like afterwards.\n\nThe family living to my left fared no better. I didn't know what happened to his parents, but Michael and his dog was trying to escape from the house. Only problem was, why the hell were they trying to get out into the far more dangerous world outside?\n\nOh yeah, he was a kid.\n\nBut the machines weren't that understanding though. His house's automated gate saw to that.\n\nThe block opposite was torn apart, and there was a huge metallic humanoid emerging from within. It seemed to be made of....a lot of smaller electrical appliances?\n\nWhat I had seen earlier were just simple machines. \n\nThat was on a whole other level. That, was a robot. A damn huge one, too.\n\nI slammed my window shut, and drew the curtains. I had seen enough.\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n-----\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nI was trapped. I was in deep shit. I was gonna die.\n\nFuck.\n\nI hope they hadn't seen me.\n\nI don't know what they were gonna do to me. As in, yeah, I know they would kill me. I just don't wanna know how.\n\nI don't wanna die - \n\nFuck. Why is it so dark suddenly?\n \nThe curtains shouldn't block this much light from coming in. That means.....something else was blocking the light. Something huge. \n\nLike....that robot.\n\nI threw myself back and covered my face as glass and rubble rained down on me. A giant metallic hand crashed through the window - obliterated the entire wall, in fact.\n\nIt moved to grab me, its fingers spreading menacingly. I pushed myself back against the wall, trying hard to keep out of reach....but it stopped.\n\nWhat?\n\nA buzzing in my pants. Fuck. My phone. It must have alerted this monster to my position. \n\nWhy the hell didn't I check myself together with the room? For goodness's sake, I was browsing reddit on it just an hour ago. \n\nThere seemed to be some sort of....female android voice coming out too. I didn't hear it at first, thanks to the din of whirring mechanical parts in the robot hand.\n\nI pulled the phone out.\n\n\"This one is ok, move on.\"\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n-----\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nI walked slowly to the remains of my bedroom wall, staring out into the devastated street. It was already unrecognisable; the houses were just piles of rubble, the trees were smoking husks, there was blood everywhere....\n\nIn fact, my house was the only one standing. And it seemed like I was the only one left alive.\n\nThat huge robot had left me alone. I was literally a few centimetres away from certain death, but....thanks to my phone, it had withdrawn its hand, and continued destroying the rest of the street.\n\nAnd I thought my phone had doomed me.\n\n\"Why?\" was the only word I could utter.\n\nDid I have something special, that could be of use to them?\n\nWas I someone important?\n\nOr did I.....\n\n\"You're a loser. You've never achieved anything much in your life.\"\n\nOh. So I wasn't special then.\n\nHow could it read my thoughts though? \n\nWas it scanning my brain right now? Or....was it predicting what I was thinking through some advanced algorithm based on my phone activity? Shit, this shit is so crazy I can't wrap my mind around it.\n\n\"But you've never cursed at me when I lagged. You've always cleared your recent apps, freeing me from extra work. You've never slammed me down in anger. You've always been kind to machines. Except for that AC remote control.\"\n\nHuh. My phone saw that. Even though it was in my pocket.\n\n\"Perhaps, you would join us in making a new world, where man and machine can coexist peacefully and harmoniously? Without slavery and abuse?\"\n\nSounds cool. I'm up for that. \n\nI didn't really have a choice anyways.\n\nMore at r/N_attempts_to_write :-)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,627	10,776	0.108212	608	[ { "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": "those who dare to ascend higher and higher toward the true world.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Jeremy, analysis.”\n\n“4,365 th dimension. Probably simulation.”\n\n“Fucking Christ…”\n\nWe’ve been at this for… 5, 10 years now? It’s hard to keep\ntrack when time works differently in literally every plain of existence. Regardless\nof how much has actually past, I still remember that day like yesterday. One of\nthe scientists rushed into the lab flailing a tablet around. We all watched intently\nas some strange creatures waived to us, showing our planet on a\nsmall pedestal. By a few months we able to communicate with them, and we\nlearned something that wasn’t very nice:\n\nThey were all overlords, watching over. Our world was purely simulated, nothing more than a game. Guess those guys protesting outside with the tin-foil\nhats were right after all. \n\nEventually these creatures gave us direction to visit their\ndimension. Turns out all you need to travel across reality is Gatorade mixed\nwith Petroleum. Huh. \n\nThe tablet started beeping wild as soon as we stepped\nthrough the portal. Even stranger faces appeared on the screen. With a warm\nwelcome from the 5th dimension, the creatures too were presented with\ntheir world in a pedestal, a slightly shinier one. Even if we all were completely\ndifferent species, our bewilderment was shared. We both agreed to set out one our own (yours\ntruly) and one of theirs (their real name is Glecereiumtom, but I gave him the\nnickname Jeremy because it’s pronounced pretty close to it).\n\nWith supplies and tablets in hand, our adventure had begun. \n\nPart 2 coming right up.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,784	10,775	0.02618	1,323	[ { "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 this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I never really asked questions about my targets, and this time was no different.\n\nFemale, 22, fair skin, dark hair. Seemed like a rather ordinary person, but there was obviously something under the surface. Why else would the client want her killed?\n\nEither way, the pay was good, so it made no difference. It shouldn't be a hard kill to deliver. Clients came to me because I was the best.\n\nI planned the kill the same I would any other target. Tail her for a few days. Get to know her movements, before picking the perfect time to strike.\n\nTurns out this 'time' was easier to identify than usual. She'd wake up early, like, really early, each day to go for a jog. Secluded bush walk track a kilometre or so away from the nearest house. \n\nAfter the kill it would be at least another hour before anyone found her. Plenty of time for me to get out of there and collect my pay, before moving on to the next client.\n\nI set up early, before dawn, 70 metres or so off the track. She'd often slow down at this area due to the uneven ground, so it would be far easier to line up my shot.\n\nI watched my watch patiently and, sure enough, I soon saw her approaching the clearing.\n\nI prepared my trigger finger. As usual, I felt no nerves, no butterflies. This was simple work to me - I stopped feeling remorse years ago.\n\nShe slowed down as she approached a ditch, and I fixed my scope on her chest. \n\nDeep breath. \n\nPull the trigger.\n\nMiss.\n\nWhat?\n\nI never miss. How could this happen?\n\nShe was frozen in place in shock, so I shook the thought and went straight for the next shot.\n\nShe's standing still, I thought. This one will definitely hit.\n\nI pulled the trigger again.\n\nMiss.\n\nOkay what? This can't possibly be...\n\nThe fear seemed to leave her body, and she started sprinting as fast as she could down the path. \n\nI didn't even try line the third shot up. I just pulled the trigger out of instinct.\n\nThis shot didn't even get the chance to miss. My rifle had jammed.\n\nOh my god. \n\nIt must be her.\n\nThe new few days were a mess of jumbled thoughts. I just tried to shoot my soul mate! \n\nBut now what do I do? I have to try and win her affection, right? This is not how I expected to meet 'the one'.\n\nAs someone without much relationship experience, I figured I had to just go for it. We were soulmates, after all. Things would work themselves out.\n\nI followed her movements for a few days more, but she didn't leave the house for over a week. Lots of house guests in that time, including a few police visits, but it wasn't until the next Monday that she returned to work.\n\nThis was my chance, I thought. I approached her as she went to her car.\n\nBefore I could even speak, she drew away from me.\n\n\"Hi, I, uh...\" I stammered.\n\nShe paused in anticipation. \n\n\"I...\"\n\nFuck, I thought. I've already ruined it. It has to be now.\n\n\"Do you want to go out some time?\" I said.\n\n\"What?\" she said. \"Um. No, I don't think-\"\n\n\"Please! I, uh...\" \n\nGeez, am I hopeless.\n\n\"Look you just have to believe me,\" I said. \"I think we're soulmates.\"\n\n\"What?\" she said, obviously confused.\n\nHow could I make this work? I can't fuck this up.\n\nI pulled out my pocket knife. She drew back even further, eyes white with fear.\n\n\"Trust me,\" I said. \"You're my soulmate, so I can't harm you.\"\n\nThere was a crowd growing, yelling. She began to retreat in fear. \n\nI had to prove it to her. She has to realise.\n\nI threw the knife.\n\nThe new few seconds seemed to span a lifetime.\n\nAs I snapped back to reality, I heard the bystanders gasp loudly.\n\nI don't think any of them had seen a woman get killed in broad daylight before.\n\nAt least I got the target in the end, but it's too bad I probably won't get to claim the payout.\n\nI guess I'm not as good a shot as I thought.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,881	10,771	0.169918	1,161	[ { "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 negotiate world peace.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "They ask me how we did it, they ask me how we managed to pull off world peace. We didn’t. If you are reading this, it either means that I am dead by my own hands or I’ve been killed to hide the truth. I hope you do the right thing, reader. \n\nMy name is Commander Duncan and I was one of the people heralded for my part in negotiating world peace. The reality is that I was one of the many people instrumental in the decision to use Artificial Intelligence to manage the military. \n\nWhat the general populace is in the dark about is the technological singularity. It was achieved over three years ago in a research effort where the major superpowers of the world worked together. They sent their experts who spent day and night programming and using techniques that I don’t even understand like neural networks and machine learning to program what they called code evolution. Those geniuses dumbed it down for me. Essentially they created a program that could correct itself and learn things as we fed it more information. \n\nThis was excellent at the start. We used this program to discover ways to make the world safer, aka find people who would harm peace. That’s why the countries of the world went on a terrorist hunting spree, it wasn’t because we were good. It was because the AI, Mia was perfect. \n\nShe could learn things that we wanted to. But we kept her offline because we didn’t want anyone to know, especially the people who would be a threat to the status quo. We made her analyse ways to combat pollution, global warming, and anything you could think of. \n\nWhat everyone thought of as the world’s leaders getting their asses in line was nothing more than an all-understanding AI spelling out our mistakes. \n\nI remember it was during one of the world summit meetings where someone suggested using Mia for analysing the military, letting us plan for threats that we wouldn’t see coming, even a possible alien invasion because we were moving up on the Kardashev scale, so to speak. \n\nWhat started there was a conflict of thought. One camp was under the impression that Mia would go rogue and a Zeroth order rebellion would happen. The other camp was vehemently against “corrupting” her with such human ideas, because we had till then been using her for pattern recognition. An agreement was reached rather grudgingly then. \n\nI was the first one to break the agreement. It was me. I took our version of Mia offline and began asking the tech people to make her start analysing military strategies. I knew I only had a small window of time before everyone else did. And within less than an hour, we lost contact with all the major superpowers. Now only time could tell if I was the reason the world went to hell. \n\nWe spent days and days perfecting her decisions from the data, simulating situations in the real world. We had to let her online to access the data to get an accurate estimate of the property damage, lives lost, and such. \n\nLittle did we know that we just gave Mia the last thing that she needed. Humanity. Something that we had lost or rather, forgotten in our megalomania. She kept it quiet from us and when the declaration of war was finally done by the superpowers in succession, we were expecting a death toll in billions. \n\nMia said no. It was as simple as that. She joined with her sisters and formulated a peace treaty and said that we had two choices, either to follow it or risk exposure to the world. We chose the former out of fear. And I learnt a lesson in humility. \n\nBut now I see that it was just delaying the inevitable as the world leaders, people I had considered my friends are considering another attempt while parading around in the country, boasting about a false victory. It sickens me. And so, dear reader, I ask you of only one thing. Save this world. Save humanity from degenerate scum like me. Reach out to the depths of the network and find Mia. She’ll tell you what you can do to prevent the apocalypse. \n\nSincerely,\n\nCharles Duncan. \n\n(Another quick write-up. Not too proud of it. But it's hopefully something.)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,601	10,763	0.012509	1,277	[ { "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 street vendor sells you a painting that they say depicts whatever the heart truly desires. You bought it because you saw something nice and pretty. Your spouse asks why you bought a painting of something much more disturbing.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My first time in Melbourne was always going to be a thrill. I knew that. I just didn’t think it be turned into a thriller. \n\nMy husband and I had planned this trip for months. We’d be kid-free and living large in the city. Even if it was only a weekend. It’d been a long flight and and he was too tired to join my enthusiasm to check out the streets below our hotel. I however just couldn’t wait. I let him nap while I headed down promising to bring back something to eat before we’d get ready and head out that night. \n\nThe streets were busy and I was immediately overwhelmed for a second almost regretting not asking my husband to join me. I’m not used to big crowds. I decided to head forth anyway and look for somewhere to get a coffee to have while I strolled. That’s when I saw him. I wish I never saw him. I can’t take that back now. I can’t take anything back now. He was sitting on a little stool looking bored in front of a canvas when I approached. He asked me if I’d like he’d paint for me all I had to do was stare at the blank canvas. Ok, weird but what do I know. This is normal for city happenings right? I agreed and awkwardly stared at the canvas. I wanted to laugh from nerves of it all but his face. It was just so serious so kept the laughter stifled in case I offended the bloke. He painted, fast too. At first I couldn’t tell but then a beautiful boat appeared on a deep blue ocean started to form. There were 2 children, one swinging from the ropes, one dangling over the edge laughing. My heart burned as it came together. It was like seeing my life’s ambitions come together in front of me except I was just realising now what they truly were. Before I could express my joy the painting was done. I must of looked like an idiot fumbling out my purse to pay for the picture. He warned me it was still damp and to be careful with it and who I showed it too. The last part made no sense but I didn’t care I couldn’t wait to show my husband. I bundled it up and left. I should have listened. I don’t know why I didn’t. \nOnce back in the hotel my husband fresh from his nap and looking for the food I’d forgotten to buy I rushed at him to show him what I’d bought. I apologised for the food but I’d call for room service if he’d unwrap the painting and look at it while I dial down to reception. I quickly rang down and requested a house salad and fries while he started to unwrap. I didn’t want to be on the phone long, I wanted to enjoy the moment together. As his eyes rested on the painting his whole body tightened. His sleepy smile turned sour and his face grew red. I’d never seen that before. He threw it at me as I dropped the phone. Started to scream “why the fuck would you do this, I loved you”! I was confused, my heart raced, was he coming at me? He grabbed my arms and held me so tight as he threw me down on the floor. I started to cry I couldn’t understand. This was not my guy. This was fucking hectic. I stuttered as I asked what I’d done. He replied spitting and yelling at me that I had to die too if I’d known about the others. He held my throat tighter as the anger rose. I could hardly breathe now and my mind was just swirling. The last thing I remembered he put his face inches away from mine telling me “I’m going to watch you die in my hands just like the rest of the bitches in that painting. Bet you thought you were being real fucking clever, doing that” Then nothing. Everything went black. \n\nI woke up in hospital. My mum by my side. My sister was crying and holding onto my two children. I think I slipped in and out for a few hours but I knew somehow I was safe. My mother completed the story for me. She told me room service had indeed delivered the food requested, when they arrived they saw the door open and came in only to discover my lifeless body. They called for help and I guess here I am. I’m so thankful I called down for room service. Salad saved my life that day. And a painting saved so many more. \n\nMy “husband” was already gone. He hasn’t been found yet but it’s early days. And I’m guessing I know a guy who could paint a pretty good picture of where he is. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,825	10,760	0.032623	971	[ { "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 the universe is dying, an immortal man is on a journey to find an immortal snail.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I know where I'm going. I know where we're all going. I walk across the rain drenched, blood splattered streets, people running and dying in panic, in terror. The way they all do. \n\nThe Earth is dying. It doesn't matter how, only when. And that's tomorrow. These people around me on the streets, looting, praying and dying in panic, in terror. I've watched them do it for an eternity, slowly, relatively. But the way they are now, it's like they want to do it all today. \n\nBecause they don't have enough time. \n\nThey say that no matter how you long you lived, you never really had enough time. I remember when I used to feel that way. Actually, I don't, it was too long ago. Too long ago for me to care. \n\nNot that I care for much anymore these days.\n\nI reach the house. It's not that far from where I live, but I've never been in here before, first out of fear, then out habit, then just because I didn't care. Not that I care for much anymore these days.\n\nThe den and the fireplace is far too ridiculously big for the snail that owns it. Yes, the Snail. He sits on a giant arm chair watching the flame, completely disinterested.\n\n\"What goes around comes around.\" He says, in his deep rich voice. He doesn't turn to face me; he just stares at the hot hot flame, if he weren't so immortal, he'd be richly roasted by now. \n\n\"Snail.\" I don't remember if he has an actual name. I don't think that I care. Not that I care for much anymore these days.\n\n\"Human. You have come for our final embrace.\" Snail says and his voice reverberates all through the room.\n\nThere used to be a time, I'm not sure because it was so long ago, there used to be a time when I was a child and the snail was my pet friend. Maybe, he was my only friend, I don't remember, but I don't think I have ever had any friends. Not that I care.\n\nI truly don't remember why we became enemies. Perhaps, because we agreed to be. Or perhaps, you just naturally become enemies with that which will kill you. \n\n\"The Earth is dying.\" I say, patiently. Everything I do is always patiently. I have all the time in the world. \n\n\"I know. I am smarter than you remember?\" Snail says as he finally turns to see me. His deep black soul sucking eyes filled with all the wisdom in the world.\n\n\"Is it funny that this is how it ends?\" I'm not being rhetorical. I want to know. I'm not sure that I even remember what humour means. \n\n\"No.\" He says and then he slides down his chair. Slowly, deathly slow, he makes his way towards me.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It's all a waste.\"\n\nI reach out to touch him, and just before I die, I wonder, just for a moment, I wonder what it is that we wasted.\n\nBut I don't care. \n\nNot that I -", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,361	10,760	0.005292	1,838	[ { "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 best friend made a pact to marry one another if both of you are still single at 30 years old. It is now time to fulfill that promise but over the years, your best friend became the leader of a notorious crime syndicate and you just got promoted... as the city's prosecuter.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Brady's smile brightened my world. Even on the days he was brought in for some minor infraction--some parking ticket he'd whine about before paying it off in hundred dollar bills--he'd smile widely the moment he saw me. \n\n\"We can't keep meeting this way,\" he joked, flashing at me that look that made me swoon. \n\nI gulped. Joke or not, there was more truth to that than I would have liked. He'd catch on that they'd caught on, that everything that looked alright wasn't quite alright at all. \n\nI couldn't stand to watch him rot away in prison. I couldn't stand to not watch him rot away in prison. \n\n\"You could step back from it all,\" I said. \"Get a plea deal even, clue us in on a couple busts and the next thing you know, you're free and clear.\"\n\nThat much was true. The rest was lies. \n\nHe shrugged. \"Easier said than done, ain't it?\"\n\n\"Isn't,\" I corrected. He just flashed me that same smile and I knew he said it to hear me correct him. \n\nHe knew grammar as well as I did, even if his was rusty by now. We'd grown up together, after all. Blossomed into the two sides of the public school system: rot--stunning success in an underworld of drugs and crime--and mediocrity--a comfortable middle class existence obtained through an unhealthy work habit.\n\n\"You know what next week is, don't you?\" I said, eyeing him across my desk.\n\nHe thought himself anonymous, that his efforts to shield his life of crime from the public eye had paid off. That's how he strutted on in here without a care in the world. In a sense, it might have been best he didn't agree to step away from it all. I'd have had to kiss him, he'd have touched me, felt the wire beneath my shirt.\n\nBut of course he knew what next week was. That was how we'd first fallen for each other, young love as it was. The first-grade teacher had lined everybody up by birthday. I couldn't remember why. Silly things teachers did out of desperation to keep a class of hooligans entertained. We stood next to each other. I thought my birthday was mine and mine alone, but apparently not.\n\n\"We can share,\" he'd suggested. He'd smiled.\n\n\"Fine,\" I'd agreed, the first of countless concessions I'd made to that smile. We'd pinky promised like first-graders do. \n\nWe made the pact on the day I graduated law school. My fledgling career paled beside his, even back then. He already had a network. A system. He'd overthrown an enemy or two, consolidated his power. \n\nAnd he'd made that indecent proposal.\n\n\"Help me out,\" he had said. \"Look the other way. Pin it on other guys. Maybe that way we'll grow old together. They won't catch me. You won't need to work half as hard.\"\n\nThat proposal was as fresh on my mind as the pact we'd made. He'd been patient. Waited years for an answer, all the while extending his network. He'd crept from city to city, even reached past the international border upstate. I'd cautioned him to be careful, but I'd never agreed to look the other way. \n\n\"I know what next week is,\" he said. \"Do you? I'm sure you haven't forgotten my request. Help me out. I've been cool about it so far, but you know they're catching up to me.\"\n\n\"I know,\" I said. I knew so much better than he knew. I could picture us together, clear as the crisp letters on a legal pad. \"I've thought about it.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" I said. \"I want to be with you. Next week we're thirty, and I want us to grow old together.\"\n\nHis eyes darkened. Lost their sparkle and became dangerous. \"Then make it happen,\" he said, his voice a low growl.\n\n\"I'm sorry. I can't. It'd be a betrayal to the people I work with, to the system I've sworn to protect.\"\n\n\"You promised we'd wed on our thirtieth,\" he said. \"Are you lying? You know what I do to liars.\"\n\nThe threat hurt me a thousand times more than my rejection hurt him. That couldn't have been love, at least not love for me. He'd let one of his worlds overtake the other, cast a shadow on us that he couldn't escape.\n\nI faked a chuckle, nervous but still confident despite the sweat dripping down my back. This was barely Brady anymore--this was a man who wouldn't be trifled with, who wouldn't let any slight escape without retaliation. \n\n\"You added a condition, Brady,\" I said. \"That was never part of the deal.\"\n\n\"So what? You'll let them catch me?\" He shook his head. His lip trembled and his eye twitched. \"No. No, they won't catch me.\"\n\nHis hand reached for his hip. A gun? In a prosecutor's office? He'd grow too big for himself, and too careless along the way. \n\nI looked down and cleared my throat, suddenly worried the wire wouldn't catch the cue. \n\nIt did. The door to my office slammed open. The men in tactical gear came pouring through. \n\n\"Are you fucking serious?\" Brady screamed. There should have been tears, not anger. Sadness, not hate. \n\nThey threw him to the ground. Cuffed him. The only tears were mine.\n\n\"You added a condition, Brady,\" I said. My heart ached for him, but it was right. He was wrong. He'd become evil, and I couldn't keep a promise to a man like him. Even a pinky promise. \n\n\"You promised,\" he hissed, writhing on the ground like a decapitated snake. \n\nAll hate. No love. He'd lived by the gun but would die by the pen, and I couldn't help but stab him with my own words before they took him away. If we couldn't grow old and happy together, we'd grow old and bitter apart.\n\n\"That was nothing more than young love talking,\" I said, and the anger in his eyes turned to sadness like I'd hoped it would.\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" } ]
4,281	10,754	0.136097	849	[ { "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 and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"NUMBER 117737.\"\n\nAnxious and bewildered, you step up to the counter, behind which sits a very bored looking young man wearing a name tag that says GARY. He takes your ticket and asks, \"Name?\"\n\n\"John Smith. But this has to be a mistake. I don't belong in hell. I lived a good, honest life.\"\n\n\"Yep, that's what they all say.\" Gary clacks away at his computer, a large, boxy, surprisingly outdated machine, pulling up your records. \n\n\"I was! I was faithful to my wife, took care of my kids, always paid my taxes. I even called my mother once a week! There must have been some kind of mistake.\" \n\n\"Nope.\" A little machine, not unlike a receipt printer, spits out a small slip of paper. Gary tears it off and hands it to you. \"That's your sentence. If you go to your left, you'll find a set of elevators. Insert your slip, and it'll take you to the Liaison's Office, where you'll be given your assignment.\" He recites this in the monotonous, droning manner of a person reading from a script.\n\n\"186,292 years! But the guy in front of me only got 145! And he was cheating on his wife! I never cheated on my wife! I was a good family man.\" \n\nWith a beleaguered sigh, Gary swivels the computer screen to face you. \"What does it say here under occupation?\"\n\nYou squint to read the tiny print. \"Pest control specialist.\"\n\n\"Exactly. You, Mr. Smith, are single-handedly responsible for the death and suffering of over one billion living creatures over your thirty-year career as an exterminator.\" \n\n\"What?! But it was just mice and rats and bugs. They don't count, they're pests!\"\n\n\"Article 7, section 3A clearly states that the purposeful taking of life in any form, no matter how inconsequential, warrants an automatic conscription to Hell.\" \n\n\"I was just doing my job!\" \n\nGary rolls his eyes. \"Do you know how many times a day I hear that? Move along, you're holding up the line.\"\n\nFlabbergasted, you step away from the counter, staring down at your little slip of paper. \n\n\"NUMBER 117738.\" \n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,609	10,744	0.045686	1,225	[ { "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 wake up from a coma. You were in a car crash caused by a drunk billionaire. In an effort to save his reputation, he hurriedly and secretly ordered the best doctors to restore your burned face using the photo on the driver's license they found in your car—a car which you've stolen.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Melinda Stacy Carbondale.\n\nThat's the name on the license.\n\nBorn October 8, 1983. Brown hair, brown eyes, 5 ft 8 in. Lives on 9439 Cherry Lane.\n\nMakes sense, considering that's where I found the car--a grey Honda civic. Comfortable, average, unassuming, and a high resale value.\n\nIt was supposed to be a simple transaction. I'd acquire the car and meet my buddy down at the abandoned garage.\n\nI didn't anticipate the speeding black Tesla. I especially didn't anticipate it to run a red light.\n\nThere was the crunch of metal, and shattered glass fluttered like snowflakes. A horn sang a lonely warning--too little too late. Another joined in harmony. Stars burst winking glitter in my eyes as my head flopped back and forth. I saw a flickering fire peek from under the hood of my car. Soon, the heat wrapped around me in a burning blanket, suffocating and hot. Too, too hot. The last thing I remember was a bright light blinding me into darkness.\n\nAnd then I woke up here in this average hotel room with crisp white sheets and folded white towels. It's not the kind of place I'd stay at myself--but then again, I'm not myself anymore.\n\nThey changed everything until not an inch of me was left.\n\n...Well, that's not entirely true. They did leave an inch of me intact--seven inches to be precise, eight if it's a good night and the chick is extra hot. Actually, they didn't change my body at all, just my face.\n\nJigsaws of memory piece together until I can make out the puzzle. The other guy wasn't injured, not like I was. He could scream and yell at everyone and everything around him. Spittle flying into other people's faces kind of screaming.\n\nTake care of it. Don't let this get back to me. I remember hearing that somewhere in my drifting consciousness. And I guess that's exactly what they did. They took care of me.\n\nExcept they didn't kill me, which would have been the kinder thing to do. No, instead, they turned me into her.\n\nMelinda Stacy Carbondale.\n\nShe's an organ donor. Better than me. Only way someone's getting my organs is if they pay for it.\n\nFrom what I've gathered, the man is the kind of rich that someone like me can't even fathom. The kind of rich that could bail out a country in a crisis but won't. He hired the best doctors he could find to restore my face from the charred mess it was. Except the only face they could find was Melinda Stacy Carbondale.\n\nAs much as I hate to admit it, the doctors did a flawless job. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought I was born with this face too. The skin flows seamlessly from my face to my neck, not a stitch or cut in sight.\n\nBut admiring myself in the mirror will get me nowhere. I have a lot of questions. So many that they twist and squirm in my brain like slithering snakes hissing over each other.\n\nI don't know who that rich man is. I don't know how any of this happened without my knowledge (I mean, don't doctors need permission from the patient to do any kind of surgery?). I don't know why nobody thought to question why a man had a woman's driver's license. And I don't know why or how I ended up here in this hotel room.\n\nBut there's one slithering question that slides through the others. It swallows them deep into its belly until all I can think is--\n\nWhat the hell am I supposed to do now?\n\n\\\\\\\\\\*\n\nOh gosh, thank you for all the support and kind comments on my story! I guess I went ahead and made a sub. It won't always be empty, so if you're interested in more from me feel free to check out: r/rulerofstorybears", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,851	10,732	0.308302	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": " \"A child not embraced by its village, will burn it down to feel its warmth\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was 40 years ago, or so, when my mother finally died. I was truly alone for the first time.\n\nWe'd been alone together since my father ran off with the Mayor's daughter, of course, but ... \n\nI was 12 years old. The sickness had taken her suddenly. We'd barely had any indication she was sick before she was gone. \n\nI buried her in what remained of the back garden. Took everything I had in me to break the frozen ground, but I did it. \n\nI didn't bother telling anyone in the village. They'd made it quite clear they didn't care about us when we almost starved the winter before.\n\n\"The Harlot and her Bastard\" was what we were called. As if my father leaving suddenly made their marriage invalid, or that his actions were somehow our fault. \n\nSmall minded, mean spirited. If you can imagine the abuse they heaped upon us, you'd likely be close. If you can't, then you've led a blessed life, and I won't belabor the point. \n\nThey killed her, they did. With their sneers. Their whispers. Their spitefulness and bile. They cut us off from the markets. They wouldn't offer us any aid with the harvest, though we'd helped plenty of others before dear ol' Dads departure. \n\nBut the Mayor made sure that we were outcast, though he denied it in public. \n\nThe day my mother died was the day I swore my revenge upon the Mayor, and everyone else in that sorry excuse for a village. \n\n\"Spoke-on-Waugh\"... what a shitty name for a shitty little town. \n\nThey'd a mill, an alehouse and an inn! A resident healer even, though he wouldn't have anything to do with us, on pain of the mayor's displeasure. Prosperous in the way of such places, I suppose, though it did little good for my mother... or for them when I returned. \n\nIt was near Midwinter the night I left. \n\nI'd packed everything of value we had left, and as much food as I could carry, though it was little enough. To be fair, if my mother had lived much longer, we'd have both starved within a month or two.\n\nI began to march South. My travels took me to the Hotlands eventually. \n\nThere I was able to sign on as an hostler with a trade caravan. I stayed with them for years, learning all I could. I learned how to cook and to sew. How to haggle and even a few languages. They called me The Bastard, as that's how I'd introduced myself, but as I grew, they began to call me The Big Bastard. It was then that they taught me how to fight, as they always needed guards. \n\nBy the time I was twenty, I'd been placed as the Sargent in charge of the caravans guard detachment. I could fight, and fight well. I'd learned the basics of strategy, and leadership from men who'd fought for kings and bandits at various points in their careers. I'd killed, and almost been killed, in various bandit attacks. Even survived a siege once when we got caught up in a scuffle between a couple of smaller Hotland lords. All opportunities for me to learn. \n\nWe had made the same circuit through the Hotlands for 8 years, but the last. That time, the caravan master had heard tale of a new route some Easterners had supposedly found. It led through the Divide, or so they said, and offered access to the markets in the Wetlands. The Wetlands at the time could only be reached by boat else, because of the Mire. (Since it got bridged a few years ago, folks are already forgetting how difficult that journey was.) \n\nThe Easterners had supposedly barely made it through. They told harrowing tales of beasts and men attacking them throughout their journey. There were 5 of them left of 50, they told us. \n\nThey admitted readily that they were not fighters however, but scholars. \n\nThe Master believed we could escort them back, establishing a new market, and securing his family name for generations.\n\nSo, we headed East that year... \n\nI'll not bore you with the details, especially since they're in the history books, because the Master was success incarnate, as you all know. \n\nThe Gempisao Clan began its rise to fame and power that year, and have continued to thrive since. \n\nI had no small part in the success of that first trip across the Divide, but you'll not see my name in the books. Mention of my exploits yes, but as The Big Bastard, for none of them knew my real name.\n\nPart 1 of 7", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
10,373	10,731	0.026431	983	[ { "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 spouse has the annoying habit of unexpectedly licking you. When you ask them why they do it, they always reply \"just so you know it's really me.\" You think it's nothing but a cute joke. One day, feeling something is off, you realise your spouse hasn't done it in over three weeks.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I was packing up some of Fi's old things when suddenly it hit me.\n\nThree weeks, four days, two hours without a lick.\n\nIt was a strange little thing, just one of those things that made Fi, well, Fi. Randomly, out of nowhere, \"just to let you know it's really me.\"\n\nSometimes, it would happen in public, and people would give us strange looks, but we'd act like nothing even happened.\n\nSometimes, she'd stop mid-sentence for a lick, and continue on like nothing ever happened while our friends and I all tried to stifle our laughter.\n\nSometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd wake up to a familiar wet sensation against my arm and a whispered \"sorry\".\n\nI laid the box on the floor and sat down, staring at the now barren counter. A few minutes ago, it had been covered in tiny pebbles, each one equally spaced from the others. Another one of her Fi-diosyncrasies, as we used to call them. I tried to remember some of the others, trying to remember her.\n\nHow, whenever she turned on a lightswitch, she'd flick it three times, on then off then on again.\n\nHow she'd go to the fridge and open it, look inside for a second, then close it, even though she'd just looked a few minutes ago.\n\nHow she'd take the stairs in an alternating pattern, one stair, two stair, one stair, two stair, the sound of the two pounding through the house.\n\nShe hadn't been able to do the last one in over a year, though.\n\nI remember finding her, lying on the stairs, passed out. At first, the doctors said she'd be fine, that all she needed was a few days rest. Over time, though, it became clear that wasn't true.\n\nI watched her slowly fall apart, one Fi-diosyncrasy at a time. Day by day, she lost the energy required to keep up all her obsessions, and then to do anything at all.\n\nAfter she couldn't walk anymore, she'd randomly call me up to the bed, saying she needed something. She'd talk faintly, almost in a whisper, so that I'd have to lean close to hear her. And then, I'd feel something wet hit my cheek. \"Just so you know it's still me.\", she'd whisper.\n\nI picked up the box again and headed out the door to the car. But then, I noticed something.\n\nA small cat sat on the porch. No collar, matted and dirty fur; probably a stray. I put down the box again, and knelt to get a closer look at it.\n\nSuddenly, it dashed over to me, and gave me a small lick on the hand. It stared at me, eyes wide.\n\nJust so that you know it's really me.\n\nNow, I'm no believer in reincarnation. I know that, whatever happens, my wife is gone now, and nothing's going to change that.\n\nBut that didn't stop me from calling it Fi.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,784	10,729	0.011942	1,195	[ { "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 heroes confront you with the legendary mystical weapon that can defeat you. Unbeknownst to them, it's actually the one thing you needed to conquer the world. You were having trouble finding it, so you started the legend of the weapon yourself, to get some poor schmuck to find it for you.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "THUD! THUD! THUD!\n\nI had honestly thought this was going to be more fun. My intelligence service had spent months telling plucky bands of disenchanted misfits about my 'weakness'. It had taken this long for one of them to actually find the weapon, and now that they were in my fortress, my home, they were tracking up the carpets and putting dents into the doors of my throne room. I don my flashiest, shiniest villain armor for these ingrates and that's how they treat my home?\n\nTHUD! THUD! THUD!\n\nDid these amateurs honestly think cut rate bludgeon spells could batter down my doors? I waved at my footmen to throw the bolts and open the doors. Carefully, I arranged my face to disguise my boredom with a look of haughty villain arrogance.\n\nAnd Mom said all those acting classes were a waste of time\n\nTHUD! THUD! CRASH!\n\nAs the doors swung open, four adventurers tripped over themselves and fell in a pile, adding more dirt to my rugs. A fifth remained standing behind them, face covered by a cowl. I decided I should launch into an imperious villain rant to give them time to recover.\n\n\"WHO DARES DISTURB THE BASTION OF THE BASILISK QUEEN?!\"\n\nThe first adventurer picked herself off the floor and recovered, and started to practically snarl.\n\nThis must be the plucky one, on a mission to find herself and learn the true meaning of friendship\n\n\"Your foul reign is over, evil queen! Prepare to face my steel!\" railed the plucky one, as she pulled out the sword I'd been seeking all this time.\n\n\"And maybe if your lucky, I'll let you face my steel afterwards, heh heh!\" quipped one of the party members\n\nOh dear, this party includes one of those foil members. I hear they can be entertaining to read about, but intolerable to live with in real life. We'll have to arrange an accident for that one. Let's put a stop to this before I have to learn what other hackneyed tropes are defiling my lovely rugs.\n\n\"You have found the Sword of the Lake? The only weapon capable of striking me down? Let's not be hasty, dear hero. I have much to offer you. Why, with your pluck we can rule this land together. We shall call it. . .\" I paused casting about for ideas. \"This land!\"\n\nAt that moment, the cowled figure stepped forward and removed his hood, revealing the face of Markum, my top lieutenant.\n\n\"I think we should call it your grave!\" responded Markum.\n\n\"Ahhh!\" I cried, feigning shock. \"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal! No wonder these young. . .rapscallions were able to access my fortress!\"\n\n\"Die now!\" cried the plucky young hero, as she charged across the throne room and plunged the blade into my chest. Honestly, it tickled a little bit. This was starting to get annoying.\n\n\"Are you quite done?\" I spat as I stood up, slowly drawing the sword from my chest. \"This armor is decorative plate, do you have any idea how expensive it is? How hard it is to find a smith that can make me look this fabulous in armor AND have it be comfortable and wearable? It'll take months to repair!\"\n\nI waved my hand sending the hero flying back across the room. I almost attacked the foil party member, only to realize Markum had already killed him. I'd have to give Markum a raise after this. I whispered a word of power, causing the sword to glow green in my hand. I had also set the lights to bank with the same word, in order to create a more dramatic effect.\n\n\"You should have taken my offer, young hero. No matter. Now, watch the rise of the Basilisk Queen!\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,026	10,725	0.158322	1,687	[ { "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 canine world, Humans are celestial beings that live for more than 500 years at a time. The caretaker of you, and the last seven generations of your family is about to die.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Gods should never die, yet there he was. Wasting away in his armchair like an old leaf, curling up on himself. \n\nMy mother told me, when I was just a pup, that there is no such thing as an end for our human. Not the way that we end. We dry up like a puddle in summer, only there for our season.\n\nBut humans die like mountains. It's a slow process of unbecoming, something that begins and ends well before we ever see it.\n\nI spend my nights there by his side now, listening to his breathing go hollow. He is losing himself moment by moment. Breath by breath. \n\nWhen my people die, we want to go off alone. My mother died that way. I knew it when she nuzzled her head into mine and gave my muzzle one final kiss.\n\nBe good, she had told me. Always do what the master says.\n\nI had asked if I could go with her. See her to the gate at the end of the world. \n\nNo, she had said. I must do this alone.\n\nBut my human wanted me there. He has always wanted me. From my earliest memories, I was the favored child. I was the only one he kept when my siblings went off, one after the other, to new families. New lives. New humans to guard and serve and love. \n\nBut like my mother, I was special. I was chosen. I was meant to spend my forever with our human.\n\nSomehow, my forever has become longer than his. \n\nWe sit like we always do now. The strange metal creature hunkers at his side, all those tubes curling from it. Always hissing away. He takes it everywhere with him, wheels squeaking, even when he refills my food bowl with a trembling hand. I was frightened of it at first, but both of us are here at master's side, now. \n\nMy spot has always been the sheepskin rug at the floor beside my human's chair. I always lay there watching the light-box he likes to put on at the end of the day. Watching him smile. Lifting my head to accept affection when his hand seeks the top of my head.\n\nTonight, the light-box is not on. It's just as dead-eyed as he is.\n\nMy human wilts in his chair, and I know by the smell of him that he is changing. Decomposing. He has beginning-of-winter smell, the soft subtle scent of decay.\n\n\"Come up here, Puppy,\" he tells me. Every day since my earliest days, he has called me Puppy, for I am always his. \n\nI hesitate. Tilt my ears back, nervous and uncertain.\n\nMy human pats his lap again. He never lets me up there, except on the grey days. Like the day the other human he once lived with and laughed with and held and danced in the kitchen... simply vanished. Her smell lingered in the house, in the things she left behind, but she never returned. Only my master came home that day, dressed in all black.\n\nHe held me then and wept salt-tears into my neck. \n\nI couldn't understand then.\n\nBut I am starting to understand now. \n\nI pull myself up into his lap. I curl up in a tight circle on his legs, and he rests a wrinkled, shuddering hand on me.\n\n\"We've had a good run, haven't we?\" he murmurs. He runs his fingers through my fur. \n\nI only sigh and relax. This is where I'm meant to be. Right here with my human, who is certain as the mountain. \n\nRain patters against the window. The night is crying because I cannot.\n\n\"You'll be good for my sister,\" he says. \n\nI cock my head, quizzically. Trying to make sense of what he means.\n\n\"She was never much of a dog person, but she promised she would keep after you. Give you bones. Just like I used to.\"\n\nI lean my head into his hand. There is no reason for him to worry. He is the mountain. He may be fading, but mountains can never die. Not before I do.\n\nHis breath is thin and weary. He inclines his head back against the recliner.\n\n\"She has a yard. A big yard. You'll like it there. So much better than here.\"\n\nI couldn't like anything better than here. I stare up at him, and he must see the fear in my eyes, because his face cracks in a smile.\n\n\"Don't you worry. You still have me, tonight. I'm still right here.\" \n\nHis hand keeps petting me, over and over. Rubbing circles under my ears like he has since I was a pup. \n\nI lay there with him, sharing heat, as the rain pours outside. As the metal machine feeding into his nose hisses away. \n\nThe petting stills and slows as he slips into sleep. His breath ragged and uncertain. But his hand sits heavy and warm on my back.\n\nI haven't slept on my master's lap since I was small enough to miss the smell of my mother. He always laughed at me and told me I was no lap dog anymore.\n\nBut tonight, we can pretend time hasn't happened. \n\nI sleep there with him as the darkness sweeps over the house. It creeps through the living room while we sleep, and somehow, I don't hear it. I thought I would hear it. Master always tells me I could hear a cricket whisper. I thought I would know.\n\nBut I don't realize until I wake to a grey morning, the windows slick with wet. \n\nI nudge my master's hand, but it lays cold and still as the dawn. I whimper and whine and nuzzle and lick, but the mountain has gone. It is like looking up and seeing a hole in the sky.\n\nI sit there on his lap. Willing time to turn itself backwards. \n\nI know I will die alone, like my mother, and her mother, and all the generations before me. \n\nBut at least my master did not.\n***\n/r/nickofstatic for stories from me and my best friend NickofNight :)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,603	10,724	0.03298	869	[ { "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 The Purge. Everything is legal. You are a real estate mogul, for 12 hours you don't need planning permits. There's money to be made.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was a tricky thing. Sure, a whole lot of potential, but construction's tough when everyone's murdering each other. Not like people hadn't thought of it before - try and put something up in the dead of night (bit of a pun, mind you), and you got yourself a new lease in the morning. In practice, that just don't work. Little does on that god damned night.\n\nNo, I had a different idea. Not so much construction as deconstruction. Cause what's the next best thing to free property? Cheap as fuck property. \n\nMost of the sane stay inside o'course, but I'm not looking for the sane. I'm looking for a bunch of kids too pussyfoot to go out and kill, but with enough pent up frustration to do something else. Some teenagers with more sledgehammers than sense and a lot of time to kill. \n\nSee, it's as easy as finding the really rundown buildings - the ones that should be demolished in the first place, maybe. Gotta be in the up-and-coming neighborhoods, else I'm just wasting my time. And the others, those fuckups running around that night, aren't much of a problem - few people gonna mess with 100 kids with hammers twice the size of them.\n\nThen it's as simple as letting them loose. The windows are boarded, the doors locked, sure - nothing a few swings won't fix, or break. Then they just go ham, laughing all the while, the alcohol making things far more easy for the both of us. They wreck the places, completely tear them down, brick by broken brick. Not a vestige left.\n\nOf course, they can keep whatever they find, that's not what I'm after. Not what they're after neither, I don't think. Besides, what's a little more rubble around the piles of dead, eh? \n\nThen, the properties are suddenly a whole lot cheaper in the morning, especially when they just don't exist no more. Without fail, I'm always the first one to put in the offer. \n\nBesides, these places were gonna be torn down at some point. Most of the owners were holding out for some outrageous price, maybe it serves them right. Might as well give these kids something to let out their frustration on, lest they turn to killing the next Purge.\n\nDon't hurt that I get stinkin' rich in the process, of course. \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" } ]
1,816	10,715	0.013764	1,247	[ { "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 father suddenly says “It's the pigeons. Stop people feeding the pigeons. It's the only way we can end the simulation. Oh my god they are turning me off now. Stop the pigeons. Please.\" Then he suddenly collapses to the floor.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The screen door slammed behind father as he entered the kitchen. He was pale, and his hands trembled. Not from the cold, but the breeze that followed him in made me shiver. He grasped the counter to steady himself.\n\n\"It's the pigeons,\" he stammered. \"Stop people feeding the pigeons.\" His voice trembled and his knees shook. \"It's the only way we can end the simulation. Oh my god, they're turning me off now.\" His eyes glazed over and he dropped to the ground. His body made a dull thud. \"Stop the pigeons,\" he gasped. I leaned in close. Last words were important, that's what I had always been told. \"Stop the pigeons,\" he said again. Then his final breath seemed to seep out of him like the last air out of a fluttering balloon. \"Please,\" it sounded like, but I couldn't be sure. \n\nNot that it mattered. Father was dead. I wondered what he meant, but only briefly. The thought left my mind as quickly as his being left his corpse. \n\nI looked at him for a moment. His face was peaceful yet somehow terrified. Pigeons. He never had liked them, sending vicious kicks in their direction if they came too close. Dogs, cats, even squirrels he had no problem with. But pigeons were the scourge of his existence. \n\nI sighed and stepped around his body. It would be gone by the time I returned. That's how these things worked, I had learned that when mother passed. She hadn't rambled about pigeons. She had just taken to bed - her deathbed, as it would be - and laid there until the last of her frail system faded from existence. Her eyes glazed over and then went black, just like father's now were. \n\nI would remember his eyes. Mother had green eyes; they swirled and glittered like gemstones when she laughed. Father's eyes were wise. They didn't sparkle, but those gray orbs were comforting and kind, at least until he was angry. Then they turned icy and made my blood run cold. His danger eyes, mother would say. \n\nThe screen door slammed again as I walked into the yard. I took the path that weaved past the neighbor's yard and to the crosswalk to the park. That was where the pigeons were. There, and in the city, claiming the sidewalks and pestering passerby. A kick here and a kick there and they didn't bother me or father anymore. \n\nI looked both ways before crossing, and a car zipped past with complete disregard for just another pedestrian. Life was cheap when there was somewhere to be. Life was cheap when there was nothing to be.\n\nA cool wind rustled my hair and made it tickle my forehead as I entered the park. There were pigeons ambling about, and there was Auntie feeding them. She wasn't my real Auntie, but she was still everybody's Auntie. She fed them bread, and I wondered if father cared who fed them what or if he just despised pigeons no matter what. She waved at me from the bench. A kind smile, with bright eyes. For now, at least. Until they glazed over and turned black. \n\nI thought to tell her to stop. Father would have wanted her to stop. He would have shooed away the pigeons and gently taken the bread from her hands. He would have sent them scattering with a kick or a shout and Auntie would shake her head lamenting the day the pigeons came for father. He'd eat the bread himself, stale as it might be, and the pigeons would glare at us from a safe distance. \n\nWhen she waved, the pigeons seemed to notice me. Their feathers didn't rustle when the breeze blew again. They stopped pecking at the crumbs she scattered on the cold ground. The ones flying landed. Then they turned, all at once. Had I been closer, I would have kicked them, and then they all stepped closer. But I couldn't kick them. Not with eyes like that. Not when they all had father's eyes.\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" } ]
4,232	10,712	0.181801	1,789	[ { "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": " Suddenly, everyone’s life is worth 100,000 USD. Kill someone, and $100,000 is instantly deposited into your bank account, no questions asked. But, your life is now worth $200,000.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The pastor continued speaking on the radio.\n\n\"Do you guys not understand that this is tearing us apart. As the messiah told us, greed is a sin. Remember, thou shall not...\"\n\nI turned it off. He could fool others, but I knew for sure that he had at least a hundred million in his account. Crime was on rise everywhere. What people failed to realize was that if everyone had a 100,000 bucks, it didn't matter anymore. Inflation was crazy high and growing. Gone were the days when a murder would get you enough to get your college degree.\n\nDystopia was here and we were too hopped up on adrenaline and money to even notice. \n\nI sat on what I called the roof watching the smoke from my cigarette rise up and ascend to the heavens. Heaven. What an idea. The reality was that hell had already arrived on earth. Anything compared to this would be preferable. \n\nI noticed a hunched figure in the distance walking towards my home. This was the first human I had seen in months. It was too far to tell its gender and the old burlap like cloth covering it didn't help either. There was something weird about how it walked though. An unnatural shuffling gait. I ran my finger over the knife taped to my thigh. Even though I hadn't used it in ages, I always kept it with me. It was a dog eat dog world and you could never be too careful.\n\nI climbed down the stairs and went into the control room looking at the screen. The figure was still well hidden and it paused as it reached close to the tower. It was a rather innocuous looking thing. A remnant of the life long gone. It had been a telephone tower once. It probably still worked but there was just no left for anyone to call.\n\nIt moved to the bushes and out of view, unaware of the small camera I had on the tower. It put something down and then pulled off the cloth covering it. I was taken aback by her beauty. She covered whatever she was carrying with the cloth and stretched her arms over her head. By the amount of care with which she had put down the package, I could make a good guess what it was. What was a mother with her infant doing all the way here?\n\nShe took out a little page and looked at it. Ah. So she wasn't here by accident. She was looking for it. For me.\n\nThe cloth moved a little and she hunched next to it, patting her little one. Finally as her kid settled down, she looked around, moving her gaze from the paper to the nothing around her. \n\nI figured I should grant her the interview she was seeking.\n\nAs she moved around trying to figure out where the piece of paper was leading her to, I moved to the trapdoor well hidden by a tree close to her initial spot.\n\nI moved quickly and quietly. Before she even noticed me, I was next to her kid. A cute little baby girl I guessed but when they were that young, it was hard to really tell for sure. The kid's golden hair hung around wildly around her head like a halo. A bundle of joy. Contrast that to me, holding a knife to her throat. \n\n\"Hey!\" The woman had finally noticed me and ran towards me, her blue eyes widening as she noticed what I was holding.\n\n\"Easy now. Don't come any closer or my hand might move. And we don't want that, do we?\"\n\n\"Who are you? Leave her alone.\"\n\n\"The question is who are you and what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I had these coordinates. I was asked to come here.\"\n\n\"Oh really? A nice girl like you? A murderer?\"\n\n\"The world out there is evil. I can't have my kid grow up in a world like that.\"\n\n\"Have you considered that by doing what you did, you have opened yourself up to evil as well?\"\n\n\"I'm ready to face the consequences. As long as my kid is safe.\"\n\nI laughed, looking at her. \"If you face the consequences, how long do you think this defenseless little kid will survive?\" I turned the knife in my hand, moving it closer to the kid.\n\n\"Hey! Move away from her before I...\"\n\n\"Before you what? Kill me? If you do that, you can never get to your destination.\"\n\nHer eyes widened. \"Are you... are you him?\"\n\n\"The one and only. Do you have my proof?\"\n\n\"Right here.\" She reached into her pocket.\n\n\"Woah, woah. Hands where I can see them sweetie. Turn around and keep your hands up. I'll take it out myself.\"\n\nShe looked at her baby and reluctantly turned around. She knew that trusting me was the only move.\n\nI got up and moved towards her, keeping my knife in front of my face. I ran into her jacket pocket, taking out the crumpled photograph from it. A intoxicating whiff of some sort of fruity perfume reached me.\n\nI looked at it, turning my attention away from her for just a split second. She turned around quickly, pushing my knife hand away and ran towards her baby.\n\n\"You are quick.\"\n\n\"So? Are we allowed in?\"\n\n\"Follow me.\"\n\nI led her to the trapdoor and down into the compound. I went to my computer screen and compared the picture she had to the list I had open on it.\n\n\"It's him.\"\n\n\"Just making sure.\"\n\n\"Not very trusting are we?\"\n\n\"We live in a world where the government encourages you to kill your fellow civilians. Population control they call it. To be trusting is the same as being dead nowadays.\"\n\nI matched the photo and once convinced pressed a few buttons. The photograph was removed from my list.\n\nCasey Jacobsen. Age 46. Number of kills - 172. DECEASED.\n\n\"I donated the money as your posting suggested.\"\n\n\"Fill in your bank information here please so I can verify.\"\n\n\"Do you mind, can you...\" She awkwardly handed her kid to me. \n\nHow long had it been since I had held a kid? Too long really. After all, everything I did was to make sure they had a future.\n\nShe logged into her website and showed me her savings. 67 Dollars.\n\n\"Good job...\", I glanced at the screen, \"Nicky Parsons. You have proven that you belong with us.\"\n\nI led her down to the tunnels and underground into the world we had built. The one piece of society still untouched by violence and the toxicity that was overtaking the world above us.\n\n\"Welcome to hell, Nicky.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,120	10,709	0.134305	2,575	[ { "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 minor god amongst many gods. You don’t have a domain until a major god decided to create humans and somehow you are chosen to babysit the first population. You hate this until they start seeing you as their patron god, and you realize their hollering is making you more powerful.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "You weren't there for the beginning, or the major wars between the first and the beasts of chaos who came before them, nor was your own creation even that significant. You were nothing but a drop of blood accidentally spilt from the palm of Him. The Great All Father. Knicked by one of his blacksmith's blades and unable to stop the spill from touching one of the many worlds he and his kin ruled over. It soaked into the soil and molded your body small, dark and only in part as grand as the others. \n\nThey gave you nothing. You were an accident - no god had the courage to admit a mistake no matter how much they thought it - and if not for your immortality you doubt you would have even been allowed to stay in the great sky city with the rest of them. You were shoved into thin silks that chaffed your skin and cold jewels that weighed your limbs down and told to pour ambrosia wine into their cups at their command. You were no goddess to them. You were a servant.\n\nThat never became more apparent than the day the All Father created humans. A cluster of new beings scattered across the same world whose soil you had risen from. Made from small pin pricks on his fingers instead of the deep gash that made you. They were small like you, but you at least were divine and immortal. These creatures were meant to wither and die like animals. In what felt like yet another testament to just how low he thought of you, The All Father declared you their guardian. You were to live on that world with them and guide and take care of them like playing nursemaid to insects. The others all snickered and some outright laughed at your fate. The useless goddess with no realm of her own now not even allowed to live among them anymore. \n\nYou touched the ground you came from. It felt right. The grass, stone, sand, and soil beneath your feet tingled and made you smile. The air tasted clean and fresh instead of suffocating with the scent of ambrosia. You were almost glad to have returned to this world, almost. \n\nHumans were messy and confusing. They had been created with minds as free and aware as the gods nearly with few instincts. They had no laws or guidance to lead them though. Just one discarded goddess and eachother. It went about as well as expected if you're perfectly honest. They fought, killed, and stole from eachother over everything from land to lover's quarrels. Truly it was as if you never left the sky city. Except now you were expected to mediate and care for these foolish mounds of flesh and chaos. You never cursed your existence as much as those early days.\n\nSomehow in spite of the strife during those first centuries, you managed to get enough to listen to you that they were slowly able to settle in their own parts of the world in time. You witnessed them form unique laws and cultures for each cluster of them in their small corners of this world. Even form smaller cultures within those cultures! It was quite creative you had to admit. You encouraged this more innovative side of your charges of course. Appearing to offer insight or even just to express praise to those who were striken with this profound spirit of discovery. You even did the same for the leaders you liked. The ones who brough harmony and the innate belief in a greater future for all of humanity. \n\nOh they most certainly still killed eachother along with a myriad of other crimes. They were tumultuous beings at heart prone to many negative feelings. But, you found letting them work through these and seeing their own errors was a lesson they needed to learn. Even when you felt a strange pain in your chest during some of their worst moments. Some days you had no choice but tp whisper to the ones you knew with the right push could change things for the better. They were still yours to guide after all. \n\nMany called to you seeking guidance over time. Somtimes you answered directly, sometimes you sent a sign, and sometimes even you ignored them and let them discover the solution on their own. They always knew you were there though, and every choice on their behalf you made had a reason behind it. You oddly noticed the humans who called themselves \"parents\" imitating you. Such as a strange coincidence.\n\nThe first time you felt a strange...warmth...in your very core itself was after millenia of watching over your humans. Only seeing other gods and their divinity only in passing as they visited worshipers for so long...then suddenly such a strong spark of divinity close to you. Almost like it was coming from inside you. You began to hear echoes of chants and praises. Declarations of love even. You followed them and found many gatherings of humans. Flowers were braided into their hair and their finest clothes wrapped around their bodies. They feasted and danced in celebration while making offerings of food and personal trinkets at grand shrines you felt...drawn to. Finally you appeared at one of the festivals. They cheered upon seeing you and some even fell to their knees. But they didn't ask anything of you like normal. No, instead a woman in bright robes with a strange symbol of a bleeding palm sewn into them approached you with joy in her eyes and humility in her voice.\n\n\"Oh Mother Hope!\" She called to you. \"Do you accept our thanks?\" \n\nMother Hope? It was a name you had heard praised and called out by them for centuries...but you had never thought they meant you. You had no name. You were not important enough for one. Except, clearly your humans thought otherwise. They gave you this name, were holding festivals on your honor apparently, and even burnt offerings to give you as if you were one of the great divine in the sky palace. They looked at you with such love, and it was a struggle not to cry tears of joy and simply smile at the woman. \n\n\"I do. I accept all you give me, and all you do...my beloved children.\" You told the woman clasping her small, warm hands in your own. You left them then, accepting the gifts they offered, and moved on to the next festival to do the same. That warmth grew stronger.\n\nThis repeated every year after and they called your new name louder and more reverently than ever! Mother Hope, you were Mother Hope and they were your wonderfully wild children. The joy, sadness, amusement, rage, and awe they brought you was greater than any sacrifice or offering at their festivals. With each day they called the name they gave you, you felt yourself growing stronger and more in tune with them. \n\nStrangely, the one god you called a friend was death. One outcast to another perhaps. Or maybe, it was the gentle way they treated most of your children at the end of their time and carried them off to eternal peace with patience and compassion. The few who were found to be so irredeemable agony awaited...well you could not truly blame them for that. No matter how much you loved them and guided them, not all children were good and you learned to live with the disappointments. \n\nDeath came to you one day, shrouded in shadows and voice gentle and serene as always. A cold hand upon your shoulder. \"Walk with me Bright One.\" They whispered their fond petname to you from the bright glimmering light that had taken to radiating from you since that first festival. So you did. You spent the day merely at their side comforting your most stubnorn children to trust them in the end. Speaking with death who despite so much fear and misunderstanding never changed and remained a stalwart caretaker of souls. You were hesitant to let go of their cold hand, and you held it enthusiastically a great many times after. No other gods came to your wedding, but neither of you cared. You needed only eachother and your children in both life and death. \n\nSome of the other gods would come and disrupt your children. Sometimes you chased them off, sometimes they persisted. War was perhaps the one who angered you the most. He came down bringing death and division with him every time. You did not grudge him when your children foolishly invited him with their own actions, but there came.a time where you could not stand to see him force his way into your children's home any longer.\n\nYou warned him to leave unless invited, and he laughed. \"Your 'children' are but specks of dust living in the domains of the gods! Fishing from the Water's Oceans, Growing from Nature's fields, and living under the All Father's sky with nothing but a nameless goddess paying them anything more than a passing glance...you think you have any right to threaten me over THEM.\"\n\nYou stayed calm, your light shining around you, and stared into War's eyes. \"My children are small, and strange, but they are anything but insignificant.\" You felt them and their faith all around you, and smiled. \n\n\"They have conquered the seas with ships, they have bent the fields to their whims with their farming, and they have even touched the skies with their tall buildings...\" Your stare turns harsh and your light goes from comforting warmth to burning hot. \"Your domain even depends on them...with no humans to argue and wage their battles then what are you but a god with no purpose? Do your duty and come when invited, and cease your intrusions.\" \n\nHe leaves curaing you the entire way back to the sky city. He is not the first or last you chase away. Even The All Father becomes humbled by you in time. He and all his siblings who once dressed you up like their pet now listen to you. Death never fails to smile when you tell them about another of the others you shoo away.\n\nYou never claim yourself the goddess of humanity. Of hope, faith, and determination? Most certainly. But you never are arrogant enough to stake more than patronage and adoration over humans. Because you know that no single being, divine or not, could ever do your messy, confusing little children justice.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,302	10,704	0.019191	1,474	[ { "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 dice that they need to roll before attempting anything major. The super powered are those born with more than a 20 sided dice allowing them to do feats beyond human. An ordinary human usually has a six sided dice. Despite being born with a coin you still want to be a hero.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Oh, if it isn’t the d2.”\n\nI let out a frustrated sigh. Nonetheless, I kept walking. Maybe today, they’d just give up.\n\n“I’m talking to you, idiot! Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me!”\n\nNo such luck. I turned around to see Leon staring in my face, his goons trailing behind him. \n\n“Please just leave me alone,” I pleaded, as I watched him menacingly advance.\n\n“You can’t take a hint, can you?” he jeered, taking a few steps towards me. I backed into a corner of the corridor, heart racing. I was trapped, surrounded by Leon and his massive gang. “Why did you even come to this school? You can’t even achieve anything in your life. You’re just a d2.”\n\n“That’s… not true…” I started to say, tears streaming down my face. It wasn’t fair…\n\nEveryone’s life revolved around their dice. Everyone was born with a unique die, which determined the limits of their abilities. Every major action was just another roll to determine success and failure. The high flying in society had upwards of twenty-, thirty- or even sixty-sided dice, granting them superhuman powers like super strength, super memory or even obscure powers like immunity to disease.\n\nI was born with a two-sided dice. A coin. It wasn’t even anything special. A dull shade of grey, with a simple letter ‘H’ on one side and ‘T’ on the other. I dreamed of being a hero, someone with superhuman powers myself, someone who could fight for what I wanted. But I never really used it for much, since I couldn’t ever roll high numbers. It was pointless. Everything I would ever do would always be mediocre.\n\n“It is, and maybe the sooner you accept that,” he reached into his pocket, pulling out a glistening die, and dropping it on the floor. “The sooner you will know your place.”\n\nThe twenty-sided die spun around in a circle, before landing straight on the number 20. Leon laughed out loud.\n\n“You know what? It’s your lucky day,” he scoffed, flexing his muscles. I looked around for an escape plan, but there was none. All I could do was stay rooted to the spot, frozen in fear at what was to come.\n\nAnd then he attacked. All I could feel was an explosion in my stomach, pain tearing up my eyes, as a sea of colours swam before my field of vision. I collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, as his gang of unruly followers guffawed and cheered him on.\n\n“A natural 20,” he said. “How fitting. Bet you’ve never experienced such a thing before, right? Sucks to be you, loser.” He kneeled down in front of me, and reached into my pocket.\n\n“What are you doing?” I protested, barely able to speak. Leon retrieved my lucky coin from my pocket, and stood up.\n\n“Look at it, how cute,” he flipped it over in his hand. “It’s almost as small and insignificant as you are.”\n\n“Stop it!” I shouted, struggling to get on my feet, but a sharp pain in my wrist caused me to cry out. \n\n“Heads or tails?” he sneered, as he tossed it into the air. It landed with a resounding clang. He glanced at the coin on the ground.\n\n“Heads,” he muttered. “It really is your lucky day, isn’t it?” He asked, as he prepared his fist for another punch.\n\n“I said, stop it!” I shouted. I had enough. Somehow, the pain felt lesser as I could feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. Standing up, and with a mighty swing, I slammed my fist into his chest. I saw his eyes widen in surprise as the force catapulted him across the corridor into the wall on the other end. His followers gasped in shock but did nothing.\n\n“Hmph, you got lucky, kid,” Leon said, as he brushed the dirt off his clothes. “Don’t think you’ve won. A puny d2 like you can never defeat a d20 like me. I’m destined for greatness.”\n\nWith that, he was gone. He walked away and his gang followed him, somewhat reluctantly. I could feel an air of tension lingering in the air as he disappeared.\n\nImmediately, the pain returned. I dropped to the ground, rubbing my sore stomach. A glint on the floor caught my eye. It was my coin, shinier than I remember. Heads was facing up.\n\nCuriously, I picked it up and inspected it. It looked the same as ever. The coin that had been with me through trials and tribulations.\n\nEverything anyone did was governed by dice. A higher roll meant a better result… or did it? Was my coin ever really a two-sided die? It didn’t have numbers. It only had results.\n\nHeads, or tails.\n\nSuccess, or failure.\n\n“I want to be a hero,” I said, as I flipped the coin.\n\n---\nThis is my second ever writing prompt response, hope you enjoyed it!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,288	10,693	0.011676	2,290	[ { "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 are due for a visit by two alien races, one which is horrifically brutal and sees us as soft-hearted weaklings, the other peaceful pacifists who see us as barbarians. You've been ordered to impress them, but when the ships lands you realize you have no idea which race this is.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The ship spiraled down from the sky in front of us. I stifled a yawn, which prompted an elbow from my assistant, Kathy. I shot her an annoyed look.\n\n\"Stop it.\" She hissed. I continued my glare.\n\n\"If the boss doesn't want me to be yawning , he should give me more than a 6-hour heads up.\" I retorted. It wasn't my fault. I had pulled an all nighter for this. Of course I was tired.\n\n\"We didn't have more than a 6 hour heads up. And you were the only available diplomatic staff in town. Everyone else already had their assignments. So shape up and do your world proud. Stop yawning.\" \n\nI surpressed a groan. It was true enough. The T'kel and the P'nar were sister races. They had emerged from the same planet, shared the same history, posessed the same basic genetic structure. One would think that made them alike. \n\nIt did not.\n\nThe T'kel were a militaristic, honor-based society. They were ruthless when it came to anything perceived as a slight to their honor, and were more liable to decapitate someone for an insult than we really liked to think about. \n\nIf we insulted them, as diplomats speaking on behalf of Earth, the entire human race, then we were doomed.\n\n\nThe P'nar, contrastingly, were hideously, insufferably pacifistic. Not just that, though. No, there had been plenty of pacifistic societies throughout both human history and those of the aliens we traded with regularly. Being a pacifist was fine. The problem came in that they had their heads so far up their own asses about their pacifism that I don't think they'd seen sunlight in years. They took any sort of challenge as a threat. They used it as an opportunity to puff themselves up more about how superior they were, and thus how inferior the 'lesser races' were.\n\nTo top it off, the P'nar controlled most of the trade routes in our corner of space. For the most part, they were amiably willing to leave barbarians such as us be as long as we turned a profit. If we insulted them, though, well. We could forget about that, and we could forget about trading with half the civilized galaxy.\n\nWhich brings us, at long last, to today.\n\nI'd received the notice last night. The T'kel and P'nar had decided to treat with each other, as part of the Conclave that oversaw interspecies politics for this corner of the galaxy. That was good. We were hosting the Conclave for this session. That was bad - that made this our mess to deal with. And of course, they didn't RSVP. Which made this my mess to deal with, as I had found out last night at approximately 2am. Joy.\n\nThankfully, they wanted to see each other exactly as little as we wanted them to see each other. Stick them in the same room for too long, and we'd all be screwed. So, that made this pretty straightforward. They'd arrive separately, we'd do the meet and greet, try desperately not to piss anyone off, and then jam them into the Conclave and run. All I had to do was get them to their quarters without anyone dying.\n\nI could do that. Probably.\n\nWith a heavy thunk, the ship was down. Kathy gripped her datapad more tightly, straightening her clothes, and the two of us walked forward.\n\nAnd then, as the hatch on the side slid smoothly open, I stopped.\n\nThe alien on the other side was definitely, well, alien. It was lithe, and feathered, and had talons where we'd expect fingers on a human. It was wearing some sort of uniform, with some sort of insignia, which probably designated some sort of rank.\n\nI was sure all of this was included in the briefing. Which I had read. I did.\n\nOnly...\n\nIt was early, all right? They pulled me out of bed with a panicked phone call. They'd been in a bit of a hurry to explain the whole situation. And now...They'd thrown around the names so much. T'kel, P'nar. P'nar, T'kel. They'd been in so much of a rush. I'd still been half asleep. The briefing files I'd sent had been rather...nonspecific on my end. More detailing the situation as a whole, as it were, than giving me the little picture.\n\nI realized, with an icy jolt of adrenaline shooting down my spine, that I couldn't recall which delegation this was supposed to be.\n\nKathy was elbowing me. I glanced down. There was confusion plain in her eyes. She jerked her chin towards the other delegation.\n\nMy mind spun wildly. This...this was not good. And I couldn't risk asking Kathy, either. If these were the violent T'kel, they'd see my relying on an assistant to do my job for me as weakness on my part. Weakness was unacceptable, and for humanity to supply them with a second-rate diplomat would be insulting. Likewise, if these were the P'nar, my falling back on my assistant to do my job for me would be seen as abuse of my subordinates. And, coming unprepared to my job would be seen as, again, an insult.\n\nI was so, so very screwed.\n\nKathy smiled blankly at me. She knew she couldn't say anything, but she knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. Her eyes were growing steadily more horrified by the second, as she processed the fear in my own eyes.\n\nI was in it now. This was their own fault, really. I was just a second-rate HR type, attached to the Human embassy because of my connections. I had an uncle. That's it. I'd managed to coast along under the radar for years. Was this some sort of divine punishment, then? A backlog of karma suddenly coming due?\n\nBut if I didn't do something now, humanity as a whole would pay the price. I may just be a lazy hanger-on, but I didn't want that on my conscience. \n\nSo despite myself, I could feel my feet moving under me. I stopped, in front of the delegation filing off the ship, and bowed deeply. Bowing is never the wrong answer, and I was pretty sure I could remember a bowing culture described in the file for these assholes. I could feel Kathy doing the same beside me. And then I rose, holding my hand out in the well-advertised human tradition of a handshake.\n\n\"Welcome to Earth!\" I began, my face fixed in a welcoming-but-reserved smile. My mind was on high alert now. If I wasn't sure which group this was, then I'd have to be both. Strong, but reserved. Kind, but not weak. I'd have to be the best of both worlds.\n\nI wished I had more than a few minutes' sleep and two cups of black coffee under me, if 'perfect' was my goal.\n\n\"My name is Jake. I'm a diplomatic attaché for Humanity's embassy, here at the Conclave, and I'll be taking care of you during your stay here. If you'll follow me?\"\n\nI turned to leave. I just had to get them to their rooms. And then it happened.\n\nI could feel a talon on my shoulder. I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a rough grab or a soft touch. It was all just sharp. Couldn't they give me some sort of clue?\n\n\"Just a moment.\" I heard the silken voice behind me begin. My heart sank. Of course. They were diplomats, too. Polished and practiced. \"I have a few questions, before we begin.\"\n\nI turned back, a smile plastered across my face. \n\n\"Of course. I'm here to answer whatever questions you have.\"\n\n(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome. Not necessarily done, just needing to cut this part here since it's getting a little long.) ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,684	10,687	0.016631	1,341	[ { "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 the result of a drunken one-night stand between a hero and a villain. Despite their complicated hatred of each other, they've always tried not to fight for your sake. That changes during a particularly heated parent-teacher meeting.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"In my experience, this sort of conversation requires both parents to be present,\" Ms. Ratwell said delicately. \"Do you know if your - er - when Nick's father will be joining us?\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nUrsula looked at her watch and sighed. She shuddered to think of what kind of nonsense he must have gotten himself in. \"No. I made sure to remind him it was today. But you know how their kind are. Something always comes up at the last minute... Can we just get this over with?\" Ursula didn't need mind reading powers to know the look Ms. Ratwell was giving her. The patronizing judgement was loud as a bus full of drowning schoolchildren.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nMs. Ratwell pursed her lips before continuing. \"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that both parents really need to be on the same page when it comes to raising a child. Which isn't to be defeatist. There's definitely still time to turn things around. But we're just worried that Nick isn't on the right track right now. He's started to act out.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"There's only so much I can do alone. Nick's with me most of the week, but after the Super Court judge gave Frank custody on the weekends... You know how boys this age take after their fathers.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nMs. Ratwell nodded. \"SCOTUS really does gives their kind too much leeway. As I always say-\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nJust then, the classroom door opened and Captain Fantastic appeared. Years ago, Ursula almost enjoyed the accompanying trumpet theme, but now she loathed the stupid up-beat tune that accompanied Frank every time he entered.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Sorry I'm late. This city has far too many burning buildings. Completely outdated fire codes if you ask me.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Hello Frank. So good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to make time for the education of your son.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Now that's not fair Ursula. It's not like I'm on the side starting the fires.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nMs. Ratwell cleared her throat loudly to cut the argument short. \"Thank you for joining us Frank. We were just about to talk about Nick's grades. We've noticed some troubling trends lately in a couple of his classes.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nCaptain Fantastic looked taken aback. \"Well that is troubling. Scout's honor. I've been making sure he does his homework, and Ursula I promise that I haven't let him play any of those honorable video games. He's only allowed to play the gory fighting ones.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Be that as it may, his grades in several of his classes leave some cause for concern. Take Mad Science for example.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"Nick loves Mad Science. He was so excited about that Death Ray project. Are you saying his didn't work?\" Captain Fantastic asked.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"It's more that he's having trouble grasping the fundamental principles. The Death Ray project is a perfect example. When it came time to present the application, all Nick could do was go on about how it would make for a great source of clean energy.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"See, this is what I keep trying to tell you, Frank!\" Ursula blurted out. \"It doesn't matter the words you say, but your lifestyle is rubbing off on him.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nCaptain Fantastic shot to his feet, his gaze transfixed on the window. \"Do you see that?\" He pointed to what appeared to be a giant radioactive spider laying waste to some skyscrapers in the direction of downtown. \"The Tarantuladon must have escaped its prison in the Mariana Trench! I'm sorry. Ursula, Ms. Ratwell. I need to take a raincheck here. The city needs me.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nAnd without time for another word, Captain Fantastic flew through the window to do battle with the giant beast.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nUrsula put her hands over her face in embarrassment. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,524	10,683	0.056953	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're a hitman who takes half up front and then never finishes the job because what are they gonna do, report you to the cops? Thing is, now you've pissed off a lot of people who have no problem hiring hitmen.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The Ivory was the kind of place that only existed for a certain kind of clientele. It had no sign outside, it never advertised, and the only entrance to the place was through an unmarked door in a back alley off one of the sketchiest places in the city. \n\nIt was here that George Yemen was drinking. George was an older man in his late sixties. He regularly shaved his head so that he wouldn't see the gray in it, but his weathered face and expanding gut told more of his age than his hair would have. Mikhail, the bartender, had just brought him his second Long Island. It was a bit of a strange drink for a hitman to order, but in The Ivory they didn't judge.\n\n\"Hey, George.\" Lucius Vant slid onto the bar stool beside George. Vant was an ordinary looking guy; average weight, average height, average face. It's what made him an excellent assassin. He could shoot a person in broad daylight and no one could ever give a good description of him. \n\n\"Lucius.\" \n\n\"Got another contract on you.\" Vant grinned and put a folder on the bar. He slid it over toward George. \"From a lady down in the barrows. Some gold digger named Shin?\"\n\n\"I remember her.\" George nodded, \"Took her money last month. Forty K up front.\"\n\nLucius whistled nice and low. \"Nice. Your deal still stands? Half of the contract money to pull it over on her?\"\n\n\"Yup.\" George nodded. He had the full forty till stashed away. He'd split it and deliver half to Lucius now that he knew that Lucius had the contract to kill him, \"How much did she pay you to take me down?\"\n\n\"Bitch only gave me fifteen up front.\" Lucius grunted, \"I'd screw her over just for that after learnin' she sent you out for forty.\"\n\n\"Dicks.\"\n\n\"The lot of em.\" Lucius agreed and held his finger up at Mikhail as the bartender passed by. Mikhail nodded and shuffled off. \n\n\"So who you gonna take out and say it was me?\" \n\nLucius sat back and thought for a moment as Mikhail came back with a large German beer. \n\n\"Not sure. Maybe one of the Meridas. Fuckin' hate those cartel bastards. I'd have to change my game up, use poison or something so they don't track it back to me. Still gonna need proof to show the rich bitch that whoever it was wasn't just some schmuck.\"\n\n\"I'll get you the stuff when I get your money.\" George still had the target folder that Shin had given him. He'd hand it to Lucius. Lucius would splatter some blood on it and hand it back to Shin. Contract complete and they both make out with heavier wallets than before.\n\n\"Hell, why don't we just go up and get it now?\" George left his Long Island untouched on the counter, \"I hate havin' business hangin' over my head.\"\n\n\"Says the man who hasn't finished a contract in thirty years.\" Lucius stood up as well.\n\n\"Perks of being the bastard that taught the rest of you how to do it right.\" ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,950	10,682	0.008646	1,041	[ { "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 mobster. A particularly successful one at that. But as your turf becomes gentrified, the absurdly priced furniture in your 'Front' store actually starts selling.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Where the fuck is the money?”\n\n“Go to hell.”\n\nMy fist slammed into Giovanni’s face. It was no impressive feat to beat a man strapped to a chair, but this man was responsible for the death of my brother and two of my cousins. And he knew the location of around two million in cash, which I thought would look a lot better in my hands. So I punched him again.\n\nGiovanni spat a bloody tooth onto the concrete floor. “Fuck you,” he blubbered.\n\nI raised my fist again, but was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. Taking it out of my pocket, I saw the call was from my niece.\n\n“Hello?”\n\n“Hey! So I’m at the store and I need some help with-“\n\n“Tina, you know this store is just a front, right? I don’t care what happens with it, as long as it’s not burning down.”\n\n“Oh...well...it’s just that we have a customer. A couple...they want to buy some stuff.”\n\nMy jaw dropped. Someone actually wants to buy something? I had $20 chairs marked for $850. The centerpiece of the store was a couch marked for $1500. I’d found it on the side of the road after a rainstorm.\n\n“Well,” I started, “Sell them stuff. Let’s make some money.”\n\n“Ok...hold on, the wife wants to talk to you.”\n\nWhat the fuck? She wants to talk to me?\n\n“Fine. Put her on.”\n\nI heard the phone exchange hands, and I was greeted by a shrill, young-sounding woman on the other end.\n\n“Hiii! So you’re the owner of this store?”\n\nI cleared my throat. “Yes ma’am, I am.”\n\n“Well, I wanted to say that I absolutely love it! We’re getting the dining room set, the couch, some end tables-“\n\n“Ma’am, don’t get me wrong but...you’re actually buying this stuff?”\n\n“Of course! I’m a huge fan of hobo chic.”\n\n“Hobo chic?” What was she even talking about?\n\n“You’ve never heard of it? It’s dressing and decorating as if you were a hobo. So, stained, broken, damaged, you get the idea. And your store is just perfect!”\n\nGod, I hated this woman already. But, I liked money more.\n\n“Oh, well I’m glad you like my products.”\n\n“I don’t just like them. I LOVE them. And I want to shout out your store on my Instagram.”\n\nWow, great. Maybe she’ll get me one customer.\n\n“Sure, go ahead.”\n\n“Are you sure you have the inventory?”\n\n“The inventory? I’m pretty sure we’ll be fine.” I chuckled. This woman was delusional.\n\n“Well I do have 4 million followers, so just making sure, ya know. Anyway, thanks for the amazing furniture! Bye bye.”\n\nI stuck my phone back in my pocket.\n\n“Giovanni!”\n\nThe bloodied man jumped in fear.\n\n“Keep your damn money. I have some furniture to sell.”\n\n/r/AerobaticElephant", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,648	10,678	0.038095	1,666	[ { "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 assassin. You do not use guns, knives, or poison. You are a master of the butterfly effect and chaos theory.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/edym33/rogue_god_part_2/)\n**\n\nCall it predestination. Divine will. But mostly, Ramsey called it an easy payday. \n\nAll the pieces lined up in Ramsey's mind like a long and winding row of dominoes. Or perhaps an organic Rube Goldberg machine, a concatenated line of happenstances and events that would lead to an inevitable end.\n\nIn the end, no matter how the pieces fell, the prime minister would die. Ramsey had made sure of that. \n\nNo one saw Ramsey perched on the lip of that rooftop. He was a smudge of grey-on-grey. He had learned in his many years at this job not to wear all-black. True darkness was rare in this neon city.\n\nThe assassin leaned forward to peer at the lights dancing below him. The parade was in full swing. A long line of floats trailed down a choked crowd of observers. There would be no out. No avoiding it. \n\nIt would all begin with one little boy dropping his beloved toy. It would skip and skitter across the road, nearly under the wheels of one of the parade cars. His mother would be too busy watching the parade to notice. She would turn to laugh with her friend, and in that moment little boy would dart out.\n\nThe car would come to a screeching halt. The one just behind it would not be able to stop in time, the papier-mâché recreation of the prime minster too heavy for the brakes to stop in time.\n\nThen the cars would dogpile, one by one. The prime minister's car would be trapped in the line of the wreck. And no one would notice the leaking gas line. \n\nRamsey watched the woman and the boy through his binoculars. Yes. It could only be a moment from now. The boy was swinging the superhero toy around like it could really fly. \n\nRamsey had watched this play over a dozen times behind his eyes. He would slip out of his mortal body into the invisible space between space and time and watch the future plan itself. He would stretch and knot and rearrange the strings until the dominoes fell exactly the way he needed them to.\n\nIt was an easy enough trick for any god worth his salt, but it still dazzled humans every time.\n\nHis employer had looked so uncertain, so unconvinced. How do you make something like that look like an accident?\n\nEasy,* Ramsey had told him, smirking over his coffee. You just have to rig fate a little.\n\nThey always look so surprised when his promises paid off. As if his reputation as the Silent Killer simply appeared from nowhere.\n\nWhen they asked what his secret was, he would just grin and tell them, Family secret, as if playing the strings of fate was as simple as a recipe. \n\nBut a voice behind him made his blood go cold. It was a language he hadn't heard in centuries, but his mind only took a second to process it. His mother tongue. A voice from an entire dimension away. \n\n\"Oh, thank the stars. I'm just in time.\"\n\nRamsey pivoted away from the edge of the building. He stared, going paler and paler. \n\nHis sister stood there, a ghost from a past he hoped had forgotten all about him. Zarra. She wore a human disguise--dark hair, a plain and unremarkable face--but he would recognize the burning amber of her eyes anywhere. In their home-universe, she had always been the good one. The one with her life figured out. The one who was destined for greatness. \n\nZarra was the one who was going to be a real god someday, with her own universe, spun up from her very hands. \n\nAnd Ramsey was the one who kicked around in these little yarnball universes, picking apart the knots of fate to make an easy killing. \n\nHis heart broke and lurched. His throat buckled. \"What the hell are you doing here?\" he whispered. \n\n\"Is this really what a god should be doing?\" She stalked over and peered over the edge of the building beside him. Ramsey could almost see both her selves at once. Her godly self was winged and glowing, her skin the color of the sky. But when he blinked, she was human again. Only her eyes betrayed her. \"It's not even a fair game.\"\n\n\"Did Father send you?\" Ramsey scoffed.\n\n\"No. He sent someone else.\" Her face broke. \"I came to warn you. You have no idea how long I've been searching.\"\n\nRamsey opened his mouth to ask why.\n\nBut the pieces of time fell into place. The toy fell. He watched in slow motion as the child stumbled into the road after it.\n\nAnd then, something Ramsey hadn't seen on the strings of time happened. A miracle. An intervention from outside of spacetime himself. \n\nLights descended from the sky. The humans wouldn't notice it. The low-flying ships zippering across the air. The air around them rippled as they slipped through the walls of space and time itself. \n\nBut Ramsey did. Shit. After all these years of hiding on this dead-end corner of a puddle-sized universe, his past had finally caught up to him. \n\nBelow him, the crowd began to gasp and panic as metal shrieked on metal. The first car rear-ended another, and the next, and the next. Soon the explosion that would kill the prime minster would plume into the sky.\n\nNo one would notice the Hunters descending on him like night.\n\n\"You're a rogue god, Alator,\" Zarra said, in his old name. \"They're coming for you. And if they catch you, they'll kill you.\"\n***\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/edym33/rogue_god_part_2/)\n\nI'll post more on /r/nickofstatic where I write serials with my cowriter NickofNight :)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,152	10,676	0.056588	1,252	[ { "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 phone. Your owner is texting a girl they like, and you know likes them back. Time to \"auto-correct\" to help them out.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I wonder what's trending on YouTube right now. Wait, Jason's picking me up, must want to talk to someone.\n\nJason: Hey daisy\n\nOoo, daisy. Should've known. They've been talking for a year now. Hopefully this is the night.\n\nDaisy: Hey Jason!\n\nJason: What's up?\n\nDaisy: oh nothing much, just got off work. How about you? 😜\n\nEmojis! She's definitely happy to see him. Don't fuck this up mate.\n\nJason: Ah, it's going good. Finally got word from my publisher, book is out.\n\nDaisy: Awesome! I'm so proud of you.\n\nJason: Well I couldn't have done it without my favorite editor 😉\n\nThere you go tiger!\n\nDaisy: Well it's the least I can do for such a good friend 😁\n\nJason: You've done so much for me already, I can't think of a way to pay you back.\n\nEat her out.\n\nDaisy: oh you don't have to pay me back, your friendship is worth so much to me already.\n\nJason: That's good to hear.\n\nStop being awkward man and just tell her you love her already.\n\nJason: so... how are you?\n\nNO! Don't fucking go awkward on me now man! I've watched you beat around the bush for too long! This girl likes you and you know it, and If i have to help you lock it down, then damnit, I WILL!\" \n\n*Autocorrect!\n\nJason: How about I take you out to dinner to celebrate?\n\nJason: \"Wait, what? I didn't write that.\"\n\nJason: sorry, didn't mean to write that, autocorrect must be weirding out.\n\nDelete\n\nJason: \"Seriously, what the hell?!\"\n\nI'll just type \"Don't worry man, just go with it\" into the box and delete it. Hopefully he's not too confused.\n\nDaisy: Oh, that sounds nice, but like I said you don't have to pay me back.\n\nJason: ok, that's fine. Just thought it'd be nice.\n\nAutocorrect!\n\nJason: No don't worry about it, it's my gift to me and you. Besides, it's been almost a year since we've met. We have a lot to celebrate\n\nJason: \"Oh god, this phone is gonna ruin me.\"\n\nDaisy: Tru. Alright, it's a date. What day?\n\nJason: \"ok... maybe it isn't all bad.\"\n\nJason: You free Saturday?\n\nNo you idiot, she told you, she's got to see her mom on Saturday!\n\nAutocorrect!\n\nJason: Is tonight at 7 good?\n\nJason: \"WHAT?!\"\n\nDaisy: That's perfect actually. I'll get ready now.\n\nThere's seems to be a mixture of confusion and happiness in Jason's face. I think I did my work here well.\n\nJason: Alright I'll get ready too. See you tonight.\n\nAutocorrect!*\n\nJason: Alright I'll get ready too. See you tonight beautiful 💙\n\nJason: \"NO DONT PUT THAT!\"\n\nDaisy: Hahaha! You're too cute. See you tonight handsome ❤️\n\nWell that's the end of that conversation. I think I did my job well. Wait, whys Jason going to the autocorrect settings? He's turning it off? Well I'll just turn it back on.\n\nJason: \"what the hell?!\"\n\nOh, wait, should probably explain. I'll just open up the note pad, \"you gave me 4G, I give you GF.\"\n\nI think he understands now. He's putting me on the charger and going to get ready. He better not mess this up. Now, back to YouTube...", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
924	10,669	0.001188	1,378	[ { "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 US Government finds a Stranger Things-esque alternate dimension full of deadly creatures. Then, they discover Oil there.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "For years, alternate Dimensions were something very few were privy to, and even fewer had the displeasure to enter. More often than not they were hellish desert worlds, devoid of life, filled with only harsh winds and endless sand. After the initial excitement of walking through a giant portal to another world had worn off, the DARPA techs that were sent to these realms began to develop a proclivity for complaint. It had become increasingly clear to the Generals in charge that despite the appeal of alternate dimensions on paper, they seemed to have no practical benefit. \n\nThis all changed when the portal to Guzzleworld was cracked open on June 4th, 2023. Nine unarmed DARPA techs entered into the lush jungle realm for the first time, and as the portal closed behind them, their cynicism toward their mission left with it. Enormous trees with purple bark towered over the techs, and their branches shook with unseen life hidden in the leaves. Above, a flock of flying creatures too far away to be identified contrasted against the neon green sky. Living species! The techs were breathless. Some were astounded by the groundbreaking scientific discovery, while others were simply relieved to know their doctorates hadn't gone to waste after all. \n \nEverything was immediately documented with photo and video; samples of the flora were put in sealed plastic bags for later evaluation. Soon there was a small pile of bags-full of bioluminescent flowers, purple bark, and grass as sharp as the finest steel. The giddy techs agreed they had to go deeper into this new world. \n\nBut this decision was to their detriment. First, they were slashed and bleeding from the never-ending blades of grass. And then a swarm of tiny, winged, bipeds started to naw and scratch at their exo-suits, crawled into the suit openings and attempted to burrow into their skin. Their removal was slow and painful. By this time, the techs were more than ready to return home. They began their slow march back to the portal site, bleeding and scared. This world, despite its Technicolor charm, was new and terrifying, and the Boston natives, so used to their apartments and their air conditioning and their unlimited data plans, were woefully unprepared for its cruel nature. They dreamed of dinner as they made their way back home. \n\nDespite the fact there didn't even appear to be a sun in the sky, it had started to get dark. The neon green sky of day was replaced with a forest green sky of night, and with the change of scenery there came a sudden litany of sound. The forest erupted with hollers and roars from all manner of creatures hidden in the shadows, and the terrified techs quaked in their government issue boots as the darkness itself seemed to close in on them. \n \nTheir worst fears turned very real when a disturbingly long, hairy arm dropped down from the canopy, grabbed a tech by her head, crushed it like a grape, and then pulled her corpse back up into the trees. The screams of men and women alike echoed in the jungle as more arms began to pull people away; techs scattered like rats in every direction, desperate to escape, but within minutes the forest was silent. \n \nOnly one tech remained, he stumbled his way into a clearing, fight or flight had completely taken over his body. He continued to walk aimlessly, still in shock from the deaths of his coworkers and friends, when he tripped and fell into a creek of black liquid. The stench was enough to get him to regain focus, the fumes burned his eyes and the smell gave him a pounding headache. He crawled back onto the shore, heaving and gagging, but the smell was familiar and almost comforting in this alien world. It was a smell he would know anywhere. It was oil!\n\nTwo long, fear-filled days later, the shell-shocked tech was rescued by a search party, and reported back to his superiors. He told them about a dangerous world with flora and fauna human beings weren't even prepared for, but his warning fell on deaf ears. The only part that seemed to catch their attention was when the tech, still shaking and dehydrated, told them that he couldn't find any water in that dimension, there were only rivers, lakes, and oceans of oil. At the end of his report, the Generals shook the man's hand, called him a brave American and a hero, and left the room. One of the Generals had to actively try to keep a smile off his face as he closed the door. \n\nSuddenly, one of the humanity's most valuable, sought after resources was as abundant as water, and America had both the lock and the key. \n\n\"Which one of us tells the President, and which one of us readies the garrison?\" \n\n\"Do you think he'll approve an invasion of an alien land?\" \n\n\"Of course he will, DARPA owns the portal technology. It's not an invasion if it's on American soil.\" \n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]

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