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
2,562	10,264	0.017295	1,525	[ { "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": " Upon turning 18, all humans must spend one year as their spirit animal, to gain a better appreciation for the world and what they have. They awake on the morning of their 18th birthday as said animal, in its natural habitat. You wake up on your 18th birthday completely human.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My best friend is an owl.\n\nSee, the day you turn eighteen, you spend a year as your spirit animal. The creature you represent most - the one that represents you the most.\n\nJohn, he's a dog. He's happy, friendly, and loyal. Harper, she's a crow. She's clever and witty. Kate, she's a cat. She claws me up every time she comes over. \n\nJust kidding. Mostly. Jason - he's an owl. He's kinda quiet, kinda reserved, kinda dignified.\n\nI turned 18 last night. I woke up today - fully human.\n\nDid the spirits fail? Impossible. They never miss anyone.\n\nWhat am I going to tell the Bureau? Everyone's transformation has to get registered at eighteen. It helps them determine what kind of person you are - your personality, your strengths, your best future job. That way, they can structure your life in the most fulfilling way possible.\n\n\"Hey, dude, where'd you put my mice?\" Jason's sleepy voice comes from the other room. It's hilarious hearing it come from such a small animal. \"I want a snack before I go to bed.\"\n\nI wander into the kitchen. \"I dunno man, I haven't-\"\n\n\"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!\"\n\nThey're all there - John, Jason, Harper, and Kate. My own little zoo, except Harper turned nineteen last week.\n\nAnd they're all staring.\n\n\"Dude, did we get the date wrong? This is really awkward...\" mumbles Jason after a moment.\n\n\"No,\" I say. \"It's the eighteenth.\"\n\nKate the cat speaks up. \"So what's your spirit animal?\"\n\n\"...I dunno. Myself, I guess?\"\n\n\"That's not possible.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna call this in,\" says Jason, and he moves to the landline. \"Maybe someone at the Bureau can help us.\"\n\nHarper frowns. \"...We've still got cake. You want a slice? We're the only two with hands, but...\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I say. \"I'll take a slice.\" Cake for breakfast is always a good idea, right?\n\nWe're halfway through our meals when we hear a knock at the front door.\n\nA primly dressed young woman is waiting when I open it. \"Agent Anders,\" she says. \"Spirit Registration Bureau.\" The SRB. I've heard they're generally pretty friendly people - more of a job and employment group than anything.\n\n\"Can I come inside?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" I say.\n\nOnce the door is closed, she sweeps the room with some sort of device. It blinks steadily throughout the whole process, and she sighs, satisfied.\n\n\"I need to tell you something. But first - I need your friends to leave the room.\"\n\n\"I trust them,\" I say. \"They're not going anywhere.\"\n\n\"We don't have much time,\" she says. \"Tell them to leave.\"\n\n\"All the more reason for you to only have to tell it once.\"\n\nShe looks at me - at all of us, and sighs. \"Fine. The SRB is going to come after you.\"\n\n\"What, to help me find an office job?\" I've already realized that's my probable future. Boring.\n\n\"No. The SRB isn't just a job assignment bureau. It was also put in place to hunt Abnormals.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"People with unusual spirit animals. Dragons, fantasy creatures, that sort of thing. Once we had a unicorn.\"\n\nI frown. \"Isn't that the opposite of what happened to me?\"\n\n\"They'll want to take you in,\" she continues, \"because you do have a spirit animal. It's a human. Homo sapiens.\"\n\nI frown.\n\n\"The Bureau holds more power than you think. It assigns everyone to every job they hold - of course the placements will benefit them. But they won't know what to make of you. And they'll make you disappear.\"\n\n\"So what? I go on the run?\"\n\n\"Yes. And you use your unique talents to stay underground for a year, then we register you as some neutral transformation, like a dog,\" she says with a glance at John. \"You'll catch a fine for never registering, but it's better than the alternative.\"\n\nEveryone is silent.\n\n\"So what are my options?\" I say. \"What unique abilities do I have? I've got no claws, no speed, no stealth.\"\n\nThere's another knock at the door. \"SRB! Open up!\"\n\n\"...You'd better find out,\" she says. \"Go.\"\n\nAnd I run.\n\n---\n[Part 2](https://redd.it/blczb9) is now up on my subreddit - subscribe to stay updated!\n\n[Part 3](https://redd.it/blvv5r)\n\n[Part 4](https://redd.it/bw9qyj)\n\n---\n\n^^Want ^^more? ^^Subscribe ^^to ^^/r/OneMillionWords\n\n---\nThanks to you guys, /r/OneMillionWords is now a trending subreddit! Stay tuned for more.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,247	10,263	0.00199	1,094	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Humans left Earth long ago, and Dolphins have just achieved underwater technology comparable to the 20th Century. They build water suits allowing them to travel overland. They are just discovering the remnants of ‘the land walkers’. You, a young dolphin, discover a mysterious island. Manhattan.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "None of my pod has understood my fascination with the Ones Who Came Before. The Land Walkers.\n\nThe ones who achieved the stars, even if it was only a small few, while the rest died of a cause we have not yet discovered.\n\nIf my family could see this place, though, even the most oceanic among them would squeak with awe.\n\nI rolled along what seemed the dry bed of a river, though it was too straight, too organized to have been nature. Cracked gray rock, with short yellow segments creating a line down the middle. A \"Rood,\" it had been called.\n\nTo either side rested the corpses of ancient vehicles. Not dissimilar from my surface suit, though with wheels rather than treads, curious portals for entry and exit and much larger frames. And, of course, it would not have been filled with water even when functional. It was known as an \"ow toe\" according to my surface history teacher.\n\nI reached forward with one of my two probes, controlled by my flipper of course, and opened one of the portals. A skeleton appendage tumbled out.\n\nI rolled back, fear surging through me. Inside ow toe sat the bones of a Land Walker, the internal structure beneath their skin and flesh. So odd. They were designed to stand upright on two appendages rather than swim with tail, and their front flippers ended in five segments used for grasping objects. Their mouths were not as versatile as our snouts, it seemed.\n\nThe head too, was strange. No snout, if you could imagine that, just a flattish surface containing teeth, a stubby protrusion with two small blow holes, and two bunched together eye sockets. Their brains must have been very small, which explained their love of the land. When I took in the skeleton as a whole, so awkward and clumsily proportioned, I could understand their reputations as poor swimmers.\n\nI traveled on.\n\nAll around me great metal boxes rose high into the sky, itself like a vast blue ocean, collectively creating a community the Land Walkers called a \"sea tee.\" Small rectangles of transparent material dotted the surface of the great metal \"bill dins,\" and if the entire sea tee was flooded with water and those rectangles were opened, we of the ocean could easily swim in and out of them.\n\nThis place could be an interesting tourist attraction. As the great orb lowered itself to the horizon however, I turned back. I did not dare remain in this place at night. Not with the recent rumors of mutant creatures among the ruins.\n\nI can confirm the name of the location, this island of surface in the area known by the Land Walkers as \"Noo Ee-ork.\" Forgive my phonetic spelling of Surface terms, I am still learning their primary languages.\n\nIt is my opinion, based on preliminary exploration, that project 423 C should go ahead as planned. After a forty length rise in the ocean level, much of the bill dins will remain above the surface but substantial portions of them will be under the water. Easily accessible without suits. I will need further explorations to give my full assessment, but based on what I've seen so far I believe Noo Ee-ork has an obvious use.\n\nIf it were up to me, I would name the theme park something ironic, using a surface term with which most of us are familiar.\n\nI would call it The Aquarium.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\\\\\\\\\\\\\n\nr/EnemyOfAnEnemy", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,401	10,260	0.220167	1,596	[ { "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 wolf who was bitten by a werewolf. Every full moon your hair recedes, your teeth dull, and you are left cold and naked on a hillside. You’ve also met a lovely park ranger named Christine.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Bang! Bang! Bang! \n\nChristine jumped. It was the dead of night and there was someone pummeling the door to her cabin. She approached cautiously, holding up a frying pan as a weapon. “Who’s there?” she asked.\n\n“Little human! Little human!” A rough yet familiar voice yelled. “Let me in!” \n\nShe glanced out the window to her side and immediately relaxed. It was a full moon. “Arnold?”\n\n“No that’s not right,” the voice said. “You're supposed to squeal and say ‘not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!’”\n\nChristine opened the door wide to the hairy naked man on the other side. “Come on in Arnold... And put some clothes on.”\n\n“You’re no fun.” Arnold walked in, grabbed a cookie off the counter, wrapped a tablecloth around his midsection, and sprawled on the couch as if at home. “So I read those books you gave me last time. You know a lot of them are pretty inaccurate? Our lung capacity isn't anywhere near good enough to blow a house made of sticks down. \n Straw maybe, if I really tried. That second to last pig though, he really got a raw deal. You think I should write the third pig to let him know?”\n\n“I wouldn't bother, it's just a children’s story. Did you read the Red Riding Hood one too?”\n\n“Oh yeah, that one was more accurate. We are masters of disguise.” Arnold gestured at his naked body. “Exhibit A.”\n\nUnder any other circumstance, a naked man pounding on her cabin door at midnight would have been a cause for alarm. This, however, was not any other circumstance. Arnold was a werehuman. Most nights he stalked the forest as a wolf, but every full moon he underwent a transformation by which he turned human. \n\nThey met a few years ago, on Christine’s first night alone working as a ranger. He came on pretty strong, and she was forced to pepper-spray him. Despite the rocky start, their relationship developed and eventually they became good friends. Now Arnold would stop by for a chat and tea most every full moon.\n\n“So you’ll never believe what that weirdo Duncan has been up to,” Arnold said, standing back up to retrieve the full plate of cookies.\n\n“You mean the rescue we released last month? I meant to talk to you about him—I noticed your pack took him in and I wanted to say thanks.”\n\n“Oh we took him in all right. Big mistake though. He’s a massive butt-sniffer, Christine.”\n\n“A butt-sniffer?” \n\nArnold nodded grimly. \"It seems so.”\n\n“Isn’t that fairly normal canine behavior?”\n\n“To an extent, Christine. To. An. Extent. It’s like, you know how you told me Humans shake hands instead of sniffing butts when they meet?”\n\n“Yep, I distinctly remember the events that led up to that conversation.”\n\n“Right,\" Arnold said, rubbing his eyes as if the memory of pepper-spray made them water. \"Well imagine if you took someone into your home, and every time you turned around they were right there, grabbing your hand. It’d get old right? Personal boundaries and whatnot.”\n\nChristine nodded. “Yeah I could see—”\n\n“Now imagine if instead of his hand, it was his nose. And instead of your hand, it was your b—”\n\n“Okay okay, I follow the analogy. Look, Duncan was raised in captivity most his life. I think he’s just excited to meet other wolves.”\n\n“A little too excited if you ask me.”\n\n\"Fair enough,\" she said smiling. \"Well, maybe give him some time. I'm sure he'll mellow out.\" They talked a while longer, Arnold telling her all about the events in forest from the last month. She was tired, but Arnold was full of energy and had lots to say. She considered telling him she needed to get some rest, but thought better of it. It was only once a month, after all. Besides, she was having fun. \n\nThey talked until dawn broke, at which point she walked him to the door. “Guess I gotta go,” he said.\n\n“Yep, see you next month?”\n\nArnold put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t cry Christine, I’ll always remember you.”\n\n“I’m not crying,” Christine said, confused. “I’ll see you next month, right?”\n\n“I can't stay here any longer. I have to be off. Back to my kind. It’s what’s best for me.”\n\n“Right, that was never in question.”\n\n“I know it’ll be hard for you, but if you love something set it free. I'm a wild animal, I can't stay here—”\n\nRealization struck. “You read White Fang didn’t you?”\n\nArnold grinned. “It was excellent.” \n\nChristine rolled her eyes. “All right fine, I’ll play along. Go on get! You’re free, go on! Get out of here! Listen, you’re free! Go! GO!” She threw a cookie at him. \n\nHe caught it in his mouth, got down on all fours, and ran off, the transformation back to wolf taking effect mid-bound.\n\n\n***\n\n&nbsp;\n\nMore of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,320	10,259	0.343707	1,559	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Two hundred twenty five divided by 2 minus one hundred... wait. What were the order of operations again!? \n\nLucelle's hands slammed against the smooth table she was working on, mechanical pencil soaring off into the abyss of math related torture. Her shaking fingers found their way to her face, feeling herself burn with frustration. \n\nJust 2 more years. Just two more years. Lucelle took in a deep breath. All she had to do was make it through these last few years and she would be free. These thoughts were the only thing that kept her going, the only dream that forced her to get up each morning. Just two more years and she would be free. \n\nLucelle released her breath slowly, the math assignment flapping lazily in the path of the airflow. It almost felt like it was taunting her.\n\nShe frowned, eyeing her opponent between parted fingers. \n\nYou know, she thought, lowering her hands slowly, I can end your meaningless existence with my bare hands, you worthless hunk of tree feces.\n\nA sudden sound drew Lucelle's eyes from her quarry. The boy a table over let out a noise that half resembled a choke and a sneeze. The tall boy threw a quick glance towards Lucelle and, after meeting her gaze, visably paled before turning back to his own assignment. \n\nLucelle was sure it was just a coincidence, but it sure sounded like this boy just laughed at her threat towards an inanimate object. It was with a jolt that she suddenly realised that this wasn't just any boy, but Phillip Greyson. The One Hit Wonder.\n\nLucelle's face flushed again, this time with embarrassment. Yet, why should she be embarrassed? It's not like Phillip could actually hear her. And yet...\n\nLucelle stared directly at the mat of dark hair that was the back of Phillip's head. Without so much as an after thought she commenced her experiment.\n\nPHILLIP, she screamed in her head, expectantly watching for a reaction. Nothing. Not even a flinch. She would have to try harder.\n\nYOUR FLY IS DOWN PHILLIP, Lucelle's gaze seemed to pierce the back of his head as she focused all of her willpower into her assult. Not even a single glance down to check on his manhood for all of her efforts.\n\nLucelle felt a tap on her shoulder. \n\n\"Lucy!\" Came a whisper in her left ear, \"girl you got to hurry! Class is almost over and you're down a writing utensil!\"\n\nLucelle rolled her eyes at her curly haired friend. She had known Michelle since the 4th grade. In Lucelle's eyes, they were practically sisters. \n\n\"I got it, I got it.\" She whispered back, glancing at the math teacher before locating her pencil on the other side of the room. It was laying on the floor beside Phillip's foot. \n\nGreat, she thought, exhaling sharply. She didn't rise from her seat, however, and instead looked at the back of Phillip's head once more.\n\nI know you can hear me, she thought to herself, practically flinging each word towards Phillip's brain. Pick up my pencil for me.\n\nPhillip didn't move or make any indication he had heard Lucelle's demand. She smirked and tried again. Pick up my pencil for me, please. I won't tell anyone you can hear me. Nothing.\n\nLucelle frowned, leaning back in her chair. No, Phillip couldn't read minds. The world just didn't work like that. Two more years of school. Two more years of boring, usless knowledge she needed to be free. Two more years until she could leave him. Two more long, frightening years of abuse before she could move out. That's the way the world worked. \n\nLucelle closed her eyes with a soft sigh. No one was going to rescue her. She was stupid to even toy with the idea of Phillip being a mind reader. After all, if he could read minds, he wouldn't be known as The One Hit Wonder. He would be able to stay with a girl for more than one date, surely, and wouldn't have misunderstood Lucelle's intentions that night...\n\nA sound caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to see Phillip's face darken as half of his pencil fell to the floor, snapped by the force of his grip.\n\nI knew it..., she thought triumphantly, standing quickly and making her chair scrape across the tiled floor. \n\n\"I knew it!\" Lucelle repeated, out loud this time. The whole class turned to stare at her, Phillip included. The dark expression had gone from his pale face and was replaced with one resembling prey about to be devoured.\n\nLucelle stared directly into his eyes, green into blue, deep forest into unexplored ocean, and thought quietly, I need your help.\n\nSlowly, he nodded.\n\n(This is my first time answering a writing prompt on Reddit, and I'm also on mobile. I apologise for terrible formatting if it didn't come out properly!)\n\n((EDIT: Thank you kind stranger for my first reddit gold!! And thank you to everyone who read/replied/gave feedback! It means the world to me. I never expected my first writing prompt response to get so much attention! I hope you all have a fantastic day because you sure made mine!))\n\n((EDIT 2: There are a few of you asking if I will be continuing this story. I actually have a book/project I am currently working on, therefore I probably won't be adding much more to this particular story. But I'll definitely be answering more writing prompts so be on the lookout!))", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,222	10,251	0.043348	1,662	[ { "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 afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I walk through the valley of Shadow and Death. \n\nIt is dark, and the valley is littered with corpses. I should have been screaming, and perhaps I am, but I insupposed I am used to it. This is the fate of the damned, eternal rest - true death. \n\nTrue death. \n\nDespite the location I laugh at the thought. What is true death but the death of the soul? And what is the soul but the sum of a soul's hope, its dreams and aspirations. \n\nYet here I was. I suppose that makes me a walking corpse. \n\nFootsteps. It is hard to tell whether it was human or otherwise. The corpses on the ground muffle the sound of the steps, but I can tell it is coming from one of the smaller valleys connecting to the larger one. \n\nI fear no evil\n\nI stood ready, quiet as a corpse. It had been stupid to laugh, to forget where I was, what I was. A target, alone. A meal to the things that wander the wastelands, a meal to the things the corpses themselves would become. \n\nTwo shapes launch out of the crevice. I breathe a sigh of relief. They are people, so far. One is a boy, in his twenties most likely and a woman of around the same age. They are holding hands as they run. \n\nThe relief evaporates when I see the hulking figure behind them. \n\nIt is...grotesque. It is a hunk of meat with uneven fleshy legs, with bulging tumors that seem ready to burst. It has one long arm that it uses as leverage to make great leaps. As it got closer I see that the flesh was human. Human torsos jut out of the thing everywhere. There is no name for such a creature but horror. \n\nMy sword and my staff, they comfort me\n\nImmediately, my hands find my sword in my right and my staff in my left. \n\n\"Get down!\" I shout, my voice booming across the valley. The couple hears me and falls to the ground, practically cuddling with the corpses that littered the ground - indistinguishable but for the rapid rise and fall of their backs. \n\nThe horror of course, keeps coming. I slam my staff down and reach for power. I do not know where the power comes from. It used to come from faith, but I doubt I have faith anymore and the power still worked. Once, a fellow wandererer, never religious in the first place, was able to use it too. I like to think of it as resolve, a belief in men, rather than in God. But who knows? \n\nRegardless, bright light, though not quite pure, burst out of the staff in a beam, and hit the horror right through it's arm, severing it. The beast lets out a screech that pierces my ear drums and collapses. Without stopping I charge to it, an impure flame sheathing my blade. \n\nOne of the human torsos reaches out and tries to grab me, but i kicked it, and the torso's spine snapped with sickening crack. I almost don't see the severed arm stump somehow jump towards me. Almost. But at the end moment I roll out the way and launch another blast of the staff at it - evaporating the arm completely. \n\nThen, finally, I ran up to horror and plunge my blade into what I hoped was its head. \n\nThe whole body convulses, as if having a seizure. Another weak yowl erupts from the beast - and it is still. \n\nI fear no evil, even if You are not with me\n\nThe couple comes to their feet behind me. I can't really make out features except for gender. They say something in a language I didn't quite understand - but the message was clear. It is a thanks. Then he stops and stares at my sword. I follow his gaze and see what he is looking at - a tiny cross embedded in the hilt. \n\nThe couple takes a step back. They are suspicious, angry, resentful. Of course they are. They take me for a religious man, one who lives in comfort whereas they rot. The man says something to the woman and glares at me. They turn to leave. \n\nThe woman apparently did speak some English, and says one last phrase before turning away and running with her partner. \n\n\"God be with you,\" she says, and runs. Somehow the words seem like a curse rather than a blessing. \n\nI remember when I first found out the great secret. That the walls were not built to protect us from the evil, but also to keep out the non-believers. I remember the arguments with the higher ups, my resolve to go out to the public. We had a right to know. Those people out there deserved to at least have their story told. These kids deserve to have their story told. I remember the kidnapping in the dark, the swift excommunication on charges of heresy. The bitter laugh with which they had tossed me my sword and staff and wished me luck. \n\nAnd so I look to the couple, young, naive, afraid. Whose only fault was to be more rational than spiritual and I felt that same familiar anger rise up in me. When I spoke I finally, truly, severed ties. I am an exile no longer, but a willing one.\n\n\"There is no God,\" I say to no one but the dead monstrosity, the corpses, and what is left of my soul.\n\n*\nDue to popular demand, Part 2: [No Gods, Only Man](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/7elkkd/dark_fantasy_no_gods_only_man_the_priest_of_man_2/)\n*\n(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing, added in bit about milk)\n\nThe italicized parts are modified versions of phrases in the Bible \n\nThanks for reading (and the gold!) and \nif you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,070	10,246	0.014468	1,072	[ { "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 edge of the world is real and every few years miles of it crumbles away into the void, forcing people to constantly move toward the ever expanding centre. You're a RimRunner, scavenging the abandoned cities before they slip over the edge.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "There were, it had been said to me, over and over again, two different types of rim runners.\n\nThere were the amateurs. They had no expertise, no pride, no shame. They stole, and didn't much care if what they stole was actually abandoned when they did so. They took risks, mostly foolhardy ones, and their life expectancy was best measured in weeks.\n\nI was told the tale of one of the luckiest ones, who had lasted long enough for my family to get to know him. Almost a year, he'd lasted, but he went the same way that all the amateurs go, in the end.\n\nMy family was not like that.\n\nWe knew geology. How long different stone types took to fall, how easy (and hard) it was to tell if they were still stable. There were places on earth where you wouldn't know that there was void beneath your feet until a crack formed, miles towards the center, and then it was far too late.\n\nWe knew construction. Not just local construction, not just recent construction. No, we knew all manner of things about all manner of buildings, past and present. We could calmly take treasures from a building three-quarters over the edge, and also knew which buildings would collapse the moment a corner was over empty air.\n\nWe knew technology. We knew which things were valuable, which things merely looked valuable, which things were valuable but also liable to explode.\n\nWe knew history. We could tell you, with a hasty glance, if something might be some precious ancient relic, or simply scrap on a pedestal.\n\nWe knew art. Periods, styles, individual artists. We could tell you who painted something as well as any museum curator, and spot fakes at least as well.\n\nAnd, yes, we knew weapons. It was dangerous work, and not simply because of the ground falling away. Amateurs everywhere, late evacuees, the occasional maniac who didn't know or care that everything they had ever known was about to fall to the void. We remained, always, true to our code: Only in self-defense. It was tempting, not least since the amateurs often knew this, or learned, and would swipe valuables from us.\n\nIt was also well known that using a weapon for that meant instant expulsion from the family. It was a sufficiently dire threat to prevent abuse of weaponry, though there was certainly temptation, from time to time.\n\nWe were not thieves. Yes, we took what others left, and, yes, we were wealthy. But we returned what we could, and stocked the central museums at very favorable terms. Those who bought day passes to the centermost cities could see the full glory and splendor of civilizations past, mostly thanks to us.\n\nWe helped evacuate, and our mere presence calmed locals, let them know that there was still time, though also not much time. The sight of our family at work was a well known signal- \"The time to leave is neither behind you nor ahead of you. It is now.\"\n\nThere was speculation, endless speculation, about what the end would look like, when the end would come. For all that we knew, our family could not have said more than this: The end will come. And when it does, we will be working still, preserving what can be preserved, until the final moments. While we work, you must flee. And when we set our tools aside, look to the sky, and brace for the end.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,852	10,241	0.080417	928	[ { "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 newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I soar through the night sky, blind to the world as it was to me. \n\nI told myself it wasn’t so bad. Honestly, I tried. Immortality, hypnotic powers, hyper speed – you know, the usual vampire toolbox – it was pretty damn sweet. And let me tell you, you have not lived till you’ve tried AB negative blood. I’ve had full course meals (actual, like, mortal meals, I mean here) that don’t even come close to AB negative blood. Talk about an explosion of flavor. \n\nBut the nights…man. It really made me question the whole thing. \n\nIf I could do it over? Would I choose to go home with that red-haired girl after Halloween party and get subsequently turned? I mean, let’s be real here, probably. Immortality is pretty damn hard to beat. But, then again…I “looked” down at myself as I flew. \n\nNo use wondering, I suppose. Vampire or not, you couldn’t change the past.\n\nA smell wafted over to me from the edge of the forest. Very faint at first, but as my sense focused on it, it became sharper. No…it couldn’t be. I banked, moving toward it till I came upon a two people sitting around a…campfire, judging by the sound. My nostrils flared as I drunk in the scent. AB negative blood, from one of them. \n\nMy mouth started to water…figuratively. I don’t really have salivatory glands anymore, but it’s the thought that counts, right? \n\nI’ve been a vampire for a good while now, and I was mostly in control of the ah, let’s say, impulses. But AB negative…it was such a rarity. Such a pleasure that it was a struggle. A real struggle. But I had to wait till morning. I had to. I couldn’t go after them right now. \n\nBut then it happened. \n\nOne of them got up then cried out – a woman, I could tell by the voice – and fell. She cut herself. I couldn’t see it of course, but the smell. Oh, the smell. It magnified a thousandfold, and before I could catch myself, I was diving toward her, her open wound. I had to have her. I had to have that bloo-\n\nAnd I was swatted aside, almost into the fire, before making a hasty retreat. \n\nI “watched” nursing slightly singed wings as they got in their car and drove away. I couldn't even fly to follow them. \n\nI sighed, again, figuratively. The movies don’t tell you that vampires are forced turn into moquitos every night.\n\n***\n\nChanged bat to mosquito, since that is way funnier lol. Thank to /u/east_of_the_delplaya for the comment haha!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,411	10,239	0.115236	1,853	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "######[](#dropcap)\n\nThe bitter stench of Lana's death still coats my throat. \n\nI can still see her smile, the dimple in her cheek every time I said something funny, the tiniest quirk upwards of her lips whenever she was trying not to laugh. \n\nGosh, I wish we could just help those people, she said once, her eyes glued to the television. I was cooking eggs at the time, and I plated them before turning to see what she was talking about. On the screen, the protestors raised their signs and asked for justice for their loved ones. And the president said that the shooting wasn't on his orders. That the person who had been responsible had been fired. \n\nTwo lies in quick succession. \n\nAt that time, she hadn't known about my ability. My mother had told me that having power was a dangerous thing, and to never tell anyone about my own. People will use you, she said. They will run you under a microscope and lock you up like a lab rat. \n\nThat message has stayed with me ever since.\n\nI never figured out how I knew people were lying. But, five years into our relationship, I finally told Lana my biggest secret. Instead of running away screaming, she thought it was the most amusing thing. She would say all sorts of tiny lies, like what shade of lipstick she was wearing that day--pink when it was really lilac--and force me to guess if she was lying. And every time after, she would laugh, her voice like the clear tinkle of wind chimes. \n\nAnd she would ask me when I planned on using my ability for good. To help the world in a way that no one else could. \n\nI always put it off. Later, I would tell her, then kiss her on the forehead as if I was placating a child. And I was placating her, because I had no intention of using it to do anything. My dream was to live a simple life with her, have some children of our own, and to live peacefully. That was all. \n\nAnd it should have been all. \n\nExcept I can still hear the ringing of the telephone that day that felt so ominous. I had looked at the unknown number for a while before deciding to pick up. \n\nHello? \n\nHi, Mr. Lancaster. Lana Smith listed you as her emergency contact, and we're calling you because she's currently in the hospital... \n\nI couldn't hear the rest over the buzzing in my head, the pen in my hand blurring as I wrote down the hospital's address. I couldn't even remember when I had gotten the pen and paper.\n\nThe hospital. I needed to get to the hospital. \n\nThe drive was short, almost shorter than I'd believed possible, just ten minutes from my apartment running through red lights to get there, but it was already too late. \n\nA man--a boy--was sitting there, his face in his hands. He walked up to me when he saw me, his face contorted into an expression of regret. \"I didn't mean to hit her. I'm sorry, dude,\" he said. He had sandy blonde hair and neon shorts. He looked just twenty. A frat boy. \n\nTwo lies. \n\nI wanted to hit him, to smack him then and there, but I held it in. I didn't have the effort to even consider why he had lied. To consider why he might have wanted to kill her on purpose. Maybe he was a scorned lover, maybe her attendance at the protests had pissed off his father. I didn't know, and I didn't care. I wanted him dead.\n\nHe went to court. His rich politician daddy got him off easy, and I watched in the back of the booth as he cried snake tears for a jury that took it all in like rats snorting sugar. \n\nFor the first time in my life, I felt an anger unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I saw red. I was going to kill that man. It was several moments later before I came to my senses, face pressed against the floor with the security officer's knee in my back. \n\nApparently I had tried to attack the boy. I didn't remember it. They let me go because \"they understood.\" \n\nAnd for the next ten years, I made it my life's mission to become the judge for all cases. So no one would ever have to go through what I went through again. I took down corrupt politicians. I solved murder cases at the drop of a hat. I was praised and glorified by the world. For ten years, it was just me in that courtroom, and a scribe to take down the decisions. No jury needed. Each case solved in half an hour or less.\n\nAnd yet I felt empty inside. Like something had gnawed away my heart, and all that was left was an empty shell.\n\nBut maybe God felt sorry for me, because ten years later, I am left staring at the boy who has turned into a man. The sandy blonde hair still remains. And the neon shorts still remain. \n\nHe sits in front of me today accused for being involved in a drug ring. \n\nHe only bought drugs, he says. He has no idea that he was involved and that he was a drug mule, despite carting over a thousand pounds of cocaine over the course of several years. \n\nThere's a glint in his eye as he tells the story, and I know what it is. Because he's telling the truth. So he knows he'll get off. The punishment would be severe--fifty years for the number of lives he's supposedly ruined--but he won't receive it. And so he smiles as he tells his story. \n\nThe bitter taste on my tongue grows stronger, and I remember Lana's pale face as she lies on the hospital bed, lifeless. I remember the way her mother falls to my feet, unable to breathe for her choking sobs. \n\nI remember her smile, begging me to use my ability to do good in the world. For her, she pleaded, her eyes wide and hands clasped together. Her bottom lip jutting forward into a pout. \n\nHe's guilty, I tell the scribe, expressionless. \n\nHe's my last case for the day, so I shrug off the black robes and set them down. \n\nAnd then I walk out of that courtroom and hand in my letter of resignation. \n\nFor ten years, I had vowed to myself, for Lana, to tell the truth in return for the people who brought me their truths. I had vowed to use this power for nothing but good. Today, I broke that vow. For her, and because of her. \n\nAnd I hope, wherever she is, that she'll forgive me for that.\n***** \n\nr/AlannaWu\n\nYou'll probably like my short series, The Immortal and the Time Traveller, if you liked this!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,025	10,239	0.160735	1,635	[ { "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 bitten by a zombie. By some strange happening, you die and become a zombie, but your ghost remains bound to this earth. Your ghost has to try and keep your zombie body out of trouble until a cure is found.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Alright Fleshy,\" I say to my body which was now shambling around. \"We're smart. We can do this.\" For a moment it seemed like my body could hear me, as it turned to face my general direction. It even appeared to be confused. \"I know, not smart enough to not get bitten by a zombie. But, hey, they're surprisingly quick.\" Fleshy let out a long droning sound, before shuffling himself towards the door. \n\n\"Hey hey, no no no,\" I said as I floated over to him. I stood in the doorway, placed a hand on each side of the arch, and held my ground. He just walked straight through me, without a care in the world. I could feel the disappointment surge through my body, before turning around. \"It's those kind of idea's that got you into this mess.\" I say out loud. \n\nI follow Fleshy as he walks along. He seems to be attracted mostly to sound. Whenever there is a large crash (Another zombie breaking through something, or falling over, hell, one fell off a roof. I shouldn't have laughed, but I did) he instantly changes direction and follows the noise. It was a little discouraging to say the least. \n\n\"Oh come on!\" I yelled out to Fleshy. \"Lift your feet while you walk. I just bought those shoes, look what you've done to them.\" They had already began to tatter and tear. He just pushed his feet over every obstacle that he came across, oblivious to the fact. \n\nA gunshot rippled through the air. It wasn't only Fleshy that it caught the attention of. Every zombie around us turned to the noise and began to pace. \"Oh shit, bollocks, damn, no.\" I mutter quickly to myself before making a quick dash behind Fleshy. \"Let's go the other way. There's probably some humans in the hospital you can eat, they're already sick! You might be doing them a favor! If they're Undead, it's better than the other option.\" I moved through Fleshy so I was facing his face. \"You know, just being dead. That's what I am. Trust me, it feels like no one listens to you.\" Fleshy didn't even look me in the eyes, he just moved through me again, and marched on towards the noise. \n\n\"Okay, just gotta block his way. Can I still interact with the world? Is that how ghosts work...\" I took a few seconds to think about it. In horror movies they do. Sometimes. Wait, no, that's only poltergeists, a specific kind of ghost. How do you become a poltergeist again? Something about... angry deaths or something? I think. I'm pretty pissed about this whole thing. I feel like this counts. I watched Fleshy as he continued to waddle, like a festering duck. The gunshots came louder and more rapid. A few of the zombies around us stopped moving and sniffed the air.\n\nThe scream they let out will haunt my nightmares. The blood left curdling in their throats, the agony that their souls had been carved with and the ferocious sound of hunger. They immediately began to sprint towards the noise. Fleshy, though, continued to waddle without any real caution. \n\n\"Okay, that's a positive. You haven't gone all...\" I looked over at my body as it slowly walked. \"Resident-Evil-Zombie. No weird tentacles or anything, that's good. You're a Romero! How lovely! Nice and slow, stay that way.\" I quickly walked past Fleshy and took a look around. About five-hundred meters away I could see gunshots and hear screaming. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the path between Fleshy and the gunshots. It was a straight line.\n\n\"Why did we have to be in the suburbs...\" I say to myself. \"If you were in the city I could... block you off in some room, lure you into a sewer drain, christ, I could have just left you alone there. No one goes to the big cities during zombie apocalypses. That's the easiest way to die.\" I could feel what I assumed was sweat building up on back, then I got confused as to how I could still sweat, before just cursing into the air over and over. \n\nSuddenly, an open car door took my attention. \"Ooooo\" I say, as I run over to the car. I slam my fists on the car horn over and over, and to my joy, the horn rang as loud as it possibly could. I continued to whack at the horn, over and over and over and over again in the hopes Fleshy would notice. \n\nFor the first bit of luck I had today, he did. He let out a moronic set of sounds before lazily limping over to the car. He crawled inside and started tearing at the fabric. I floated through the door and slammed him in. He turned back towards the glass, and very slowly started to mush his face and lips into it, trying to bite it. \n\n\"Good boy,\" I say. \"Good boy.\" From behind me, they came. Survivors. About six of them. One was bleeding profusely from the leg, as four others kept screaming about leaving him behind, whilst I assume it was his wife who wouldn't let him go. Eventually, his disability and her determination to stay with him caused the zombie horde to overwhelm them. They devoured them quite quickly if I do say so myself. The rest of the survivors just continued to run, and run they did, right past Fleshy who was still locked in the car. \n\n\"Look at that buddy,\" I say as I turn around to face Fleshy. \"We live to... live another day.\" I frowned, before turning my back to him and simply laying onto the side of the car.\n\n\"Today sucks so bad.\" \n\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nIf you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,904	10,238	0.156152	1,986	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered \"follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots\". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started. \n\n\nInitially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement. \n\n\nI’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare. \n\n\nEvery time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.\n\n\nMy only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.\n\n\nI am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.\n\n\nThe nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.\n\n\nWhen I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.\n\n\nShe has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.\n\n\nI know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth. \n\n\nI am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone. \n\n\nI’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.” \n\n\nI squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait. \n\n\nI feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed. \n\n\nI’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.\n\n\nTime means nothing. \n\n\nWe stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.\n\n\nThere is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.\n\n[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.]", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,944	10,237	0.187394	1,586	[ { "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 highly dangerous criminal who has been given 200 years in prison. It's been 200 years and you're still alive. The justice system did not foresee this.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My old bones don’t feel so old. My teeth are still my own. My hair never turned grey.\n\nMy son visited me once. He must have died almost a century and a half ago.\n\nHe came because he just wanted to see me one last time before he moved on. He told me I looked great. He said he was glad I was in prison, since he felt like it allowed him to treat me like a human. I must have been in my mid 40s then. He was mid way through college.\n\nHe cried a little while he was talking to me. He said he had always felt so ashamed all throughout school. He was 6 when I was imprisoned. And he saw me when they arrested me. The images never left his mind and the teasing didn’t stop until college when he finally got to leave all of his childhood behind. He wanted to see me though.\n\n“I missed you,” he said.\n\nI asked him if I could give him a hug. He said no and we kept talking for a while.\n\nThat memory got me through years, probably a decade or two. It was one of the few things that made me feel human. I hadn’t felt human since I went off to prison in the first place. Losing my family was everything to me.\n\nI was about seventy when the doctors started coming. Everyone just thought I must have taken really good care of myself up until then. But the testing lasted forever. I still haven’t found out who actually initiated the studies into my physiology. Maybe the government, I don't know who I have to blame.\n\nEventually the experiments got really bad. For the first fifteen or twenty years they were just monitoring me and drawing blood and taking other samples. Once I was approaching 90 they started testing me.\n\nI had no one to talk to when they injected me with viruses and I was sick for a week, thinking I was laying on my deathbed. I didn’t have anyone on my side when they took off my fingertip to see how it would regrow. It took months before it returned to normal.\n\nBut that was only the beginning. They eventually tested things in a more extreme way. They had thoroughly found that my body would fully recover from anything normal. They fed me just rice for months to see how my body would respond to nutrient deficits.\n\nThey started getting more eager with the snipping and took off my finger past the bone. I wasn’t excited when the bone grew back, but they moved past the doctors at that point and had scientists come in who specialized in the regenerative properties of axolotls.\n\nThey were ecstatic, they’d never successfully regrown human limbs even with advanced stem cell therapy. They were shown the finger trick again.\n\nOne of them was a cute girl scientist. I knew they didn’t think of me as a human once they were told what I did, but she saw my eyes more than anyone else ever had. I think she at least felt sorry for what they were doing to another human.\n\nI thought we might be friends so I told her not to hold back for my sake, she should do what her passion demands of her.\n\nShe ended up sending me a letter when she became old, secretly delivered by hand. She said she felt horrible for what she did and begged me to forgive her. She never visited though.\n\nIt was when I had about seventy or eighty years left on my sentence that the experiments started to bear fruit for the worse. They discovered how to perform a treatment to give others the same immortal cells I had. Now it wasn’t that each cell I had was immortal. It was just that the years never damaged my DNA. Nor did UV rays affect me. There was nothing that would wear down my resilient body.\n\nAt this point I hadn’t seen other prisoners in maybe 60 years. They kept me isolated in a secret facility so I wouldn’t talk. And once they unlocked my immortality, the experiments slowed down. They had effectively exhausted my resources and couldn’t learn anything else from my poor tired body.\n\nThere is one thing that immortality has little positive effect on, as far as immortality goes. That is the brain. And that they used to their advantage. They kept me weak and fed me very little for the last 60 years of my sentence. I wasn’t in the system anymore as far as I could tell so I didn’t know why they wouldn’t just kill me. I knew I wasn’t human anymore. I didn’t care. I’d tried to kill myself enough times but I could never finish the job. I was too afraid for the more efficient methods, and the other things I tried didn’t work.\n\nMy mind went on and on. And then on my 230th birthday, good news came.\n\nI was barely a shell of a man, but a small investigation started when my sentence ended and there was no record of my death. There were no doctors or scientists still alive from when the experimenting had started, so there was no way to know for sure what happened. I knew they had to have pronounced me dead at some point so no one would come poking around.\n\nBut I got out. They found me in my cell, the most docile of my species. The most reformed violent man in history.\n\nBut Dr. Stevens, the kindest of the ones who carried out my sentence, I know it was you. So I thank you.\n\nNow I return to a world of immortals, of which I am the first. But we aren’t all the same. The poor still die. The armies of other nations still have amputees. There are still those who die of sickness, who die malnourished.\n\nMy life was spent to create this world, my suffering bore the fruit that lead to this place. I guess I’ll go. The first immortal man. The oldest person alive. I’ll use what little fame I now have, and I’ll do what I can to even the playing field. My gifts were stolen without cost. So too should they be given freely.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,550	10,236	0.041063	1,610	[ { "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 lived on Grandpa's humble farm your whole life. But Grandpa's on his last days now and you're expecting a few people to come say their last goodbyes. 12 kings, 8 dragons, 4 emperors, some minor deities, and many others later, you got more than a few questions for Grandpa.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“I think there are other people you should be talking to, grandpa!” I said, glancing at the door. I kept expecting one of the guests to understandably lose their patience at waiting on a mere farmer. I had seen more than a few crowns among their heads.\n\n“Nonsense, Rob! Who would I rather see on my deathbed than my family? I have shared closely held secrets to my friends and spoken what could have been final words with them dozens of times in the past. It is wonderful enough to have seen them once more.” His words were interrupted as he fell into another one of his coughing fits.\n\n“Your friends? I have never seen any of them before! When would you have met people like them? Who are you?” The figure of the guest carrying his twin, silver scythes popped into my mind once more. He was the spitting image of the Harvest Lord they prayed to at the start of the new year.\n\nGrandpa laughed, though I could see it pained him to do so.\n\n“Well, I wasn’t always an old man, boy. Just as you go off with the neighborhood children, I had my share of adventure.” That didn’t seem remotely the same. “We laughed, we loved, and we saw the world. We had friends we lost or who left us and we had regrets. It’s called living your life! I had my fun and wanted something else for my later years. Without the same stress and worries. A farm is far from the worst place to pass the years.”\n\n“You must have been someone great! Someone amazing! Why did you give it up for this life?” I couldn’t understand it. He could have left this static town with its tired, predictable problems and concerns.\n\n“I am the same person now as I was then. You say he was amazing? Am I a disappointment in your eyes?”\n\nMy face burned.\n\n“Of course not, grandpa. I love you and you have been nothing but the best man I have ever known.”\n\nIt was true. I had never known a more open-hearted, loving person. He had taken me in when I had no one and helped the community in a thousand ways throughout his years. There wasn’t a soul around that would not give their arm for him. He smiled at me, reaching out to stroke my face.\n\n“Well, then I guess I did the right thing, after all. I can see why you’d question my decision. It’s hard to understand if you haven’t been in my position. If you haven’t had your fill of storybook quests and seen what it is really like to go on such a journey, they seem quite appealing. But you should know that none of my old friends out there even questioned me when I said I was settling down here. And they knew not to interrupt my quiet life by coming here until now. It was not a bad choice in their eyes either.”\n\nI didn’t have a response to that. I still couldn’t get what he was telling me. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes for he chuckled.\n\n“But wouldn’t your life have been better? You wouldn’t have had to work. At least not work like this. You, of anyone I know of, deserve the life of royalty. You could have passed the years with kings and emperors!” Not to mention the possibility of living with gods, but I refused to even voice such a blasphemous thought. I must be mistaken about the Harvest Lord.\n\n“You’re still young, but remember my words. There’s a lot of beauty in a fulfilling life, surrounded by loved ones and doing what you like. There’s no need for the palaces, the treasures, the glory.”\n\nI felt a blush coming again. Was I being too greedy, too materialistic?\n\n“Were my friendships here lesser than the friendships I made as a young man? I care for Anders and our chess matches as much as I ever did for sparring with Reed. Did I ever regret the love I found with my wife? It never even crossed my mind to consider whether I could have found someone better elsewhere. A better life, does such a thing exist? As though anyone is undeserving of my attention or love. As though anyone is beneath me,” he scoffed.\n\n“But still!” I had to insist. I knew there was some truth to what he said. But the life he had seemingly given up had to have been greater than what he had achieved here.\n\n“Robert.” I closed my mouth. He never said my full name unless he was serious. “There’s nothing you can say. I gave it great thought before I decided to come here and have given it much more thought over the years. I am content with the way my life has gone, at every stage of it. I am certainly glad to have met you.”\n\nMy heart was full but also hurt at the thought of losing him. The world would be lesser without him in it.\n\n“My type of living is always an option available to you. But an adventure awaits if you wish it as well. I know young blood often calls for it. Aidan has offered to bring you back with him if you wish.”\n\nWas he speaking of King Aidan of the Narrows? I had thought I had recognized one of the guest’s faces. Only now did I realize it was the same face stamped on the coins I had used my entire life.\n\n“I trust his judgment and sensibilities. He would take good care of you, if you’d like to try a different life for a time. But I leave this farm for you as well, as something always available for you to return to. This is your home, Rob. Now and always. I love you.”\n\nTears welled in my eyes, drowning out any excitement I had felt at his words. My grandpa was dying.\n\n“I love you too,” I said, wrapping him in a hug.\n***\nr/Inder for more stories like this!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,348	10,236	0.024423	1,607	[ { "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": " You nail the interview and get hired on the spot, but as your new boss shakes your hand he says \"It's great to have you back.\" Likewise, your new coworkers seem to already know you, and act as if you've worked there in the past. They keep apologizing for 'what happened.' You have no idea why.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "His hand was clammy, the limp shake stirring a familiar irritation inside me. \"It's great to have you back,\" Brian said with a mysterious smile. I figured it was a slip of the tongue, like saying \"you, too\" to a waiter who tells you to enjoy your meal. I didn't question him. The interview process had been brief; I had found an email from the recruiter in my inbox detailing a set of skills that I happened to have. And then, voila. An interview later and I had the job. \n\nI didn't connect the dots at first when Zach bumped into me in the breakroom. I had met him during the interview. \"Sorry,\" he mumbled, glancing up from his phone. And then his face broke into a smile, more the kind you would have when you're seeing an old acquaintance after a decade apart, not after seeing the new guy. \"Hey, man,\" he said shyly. \"Sorry about last time.\" And then it just kept happening. They kept apologizing for last time, like maybe they thought I had been laid off from my last job or they thought they had bumped into me a dozen times before or offended me somehow. I tried my best to write it off as the effect of working in an office full of senile office drones. I just kept my head down, minding my own business.\n\n\"No phones in the office, Matt,\" I heard Brian say from behind me as I opened Reddit to start my habitual browsing. I glanced around at the other cubes. People seemed to have their phones. But I couldn't. I shrugged. I guess I had to earn my place as the new guy. I would sit there in boredom then, waiting for more work. Everything was blocked. Not just the basics like fetish sites and porn, but music streaming and news sites and games and everything. Even Google and Wikipedia. It was dreadfully boring. \n\n\"Sup, Zach?\" I asked, spinning around in my seat to where he sat at his desk, typing away a text message on his phone.\n\n\"No talking except in the breakrooms, Matt,\" Brian said from behind me. Interesting. Not quite a welcoming work environment. But I needed the job more than I needed to stifle the boredom. I could deal with this, I told myself. I just had to stay focused, find work to do. Busy myself learning Excel macros or something... No Microsoft license. Solid. I wondered what everybody else in the office did all day. I stood, glancing around surreptitiously and grabbing my phone for a long shit. \"No phones in the bathroom, Matt, we try to keep it brief,\" Brian said from right over my shoulder. I jumped. I hadn't heard him sneak up on me. His overbearing management style was starting to get to me. So I took a phoneless shit. You know how dreadfully boring that is? I was in and out in record time.\n\nFive o'clock finally crawled around and I stood to leave. \"Have a good one, Zach,\" I told him in as upbeat a tone as I could muster. I was exhausted from the boredom. He ignored me.\n\n\"Actually...\" I heard Brian's voice behind me. \"We have a bit of a production issue. We'll need your support.\" I sat back down, dejected. Back to staring lifelessly at my screen, supporting absolutely nobody. When I was finally released, it was dark out. I drove home mindlessly, ate a plate of leftovers I didn't remember making and then went to sleep. \n\nMy alarm seemed to ring moments later and then I was back in the office, bright and early, staring at nothing in particular, just like my first day and the day after that and the day after that. I couldn't take it anymore. The boredom was making me sweat. My hands were trembling, desperately searching for something to do. Zach ignored my attempts at conversation, sometimes just glancing over his shoulder apologetically. My phone had been confiscated. My Rubik's cube, too. I had brought a pencil and paper just to have it taken by Brian. He seemed out to get me. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt myself breaking, turning to him in a furious rage when he told me I was taking too many bathroom breaks. \n\n\"What the f...\" I was met with his delighted grin and then I was immobilized from behind and dragged down the hall of cubes, shouting desperately at my colleagues. \"Get out of here before it breaks you,\" I screamed at them. Some of them seemed to laugh spitefully. Some seemed to hang their heads in shame.\n\nI was sat rudely into a chair in a conference room, restraints strapped to both my wrists. \"Time?\" I heard Brian say, suddenly taking on the persona of a commanding boss instead of the meek \ndictator he had been in the office. \n\n\"Day and a half,\" somebody answered. \"You really pulled out all the stops this time. Pushed him over the edge.\"\n\n\"Not nearly as good as last time,\" Brian said in response to the report, as if we had been through this all before. \"I may have gone a bit too hard. Make sure to record that.\" He stepped in front of me, his lazy eyes now sharp and analytical as he looked at my face, still twisted in rage and confusion. He patted my cheek condescendingly. \"I know you don't think so, but you're doing something useful,\" he said with a smirk. \"Or we're doing something useful with you.\" Then he looked towards whoever was taking notes behind me and I felt hands push my head to the side and line a needle up with my neck. \"We'll go a bit easier on him next time. Reset him.\"\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" } ]
3,650	10,226	0.015027	810	[ { "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 SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The knock woke me. \n\nI blinked at the door a moment. I didn't have to make the doors, nothing else lived on this entire damn planet other than me of course, but it had just felt...right.\n\nThe knock came again, more insistent. \n\nI swallowed, and by complete instinct I grabbed the nearest thing to me - a glass stirring rod, and approached the door. \n\nSome image I made as maybe the first human to contact an alien species - a raven haired woman in a nightgown holding a glass rod for God's sake. \n\nDon't get your hopes up, that cynical part of me said. It's probably just you hallucinating from extreme lack of human contact.\n\nI suppressed that voice. I'd heard the knock, I knew I had. \n\nI opened the door and dropped the glass stirring rod in shock.\n\nBrad stood there, exactly as he had all those years ago. Tall, blond hair and that grin of his. He hadn't changed a bit.\n\n\"Oh my God,\" was all I could say.\n\nBrad raised an eyebrow, and spoke with a smile dancing on his lips, \"Is that a stirring rod or are you just happy to see me?\"\n\nI flung my arms around him and started to cry. \"H-how?\" was all I managed between choking sobs. Images flashed through my head. Our times in college, us laughing, talking, driving around the countryside in the night. ...And watching the explosions as my ship left him, as I abandoned him. \n\n\"Well, you see,\" he said, holding me tightly. \"Contrary to what you think, there are in fact other humans with intelligence. We rebuilt and I came for you. Couldn't leave you alone here could I?\"\n\nMy rational part of me knew then, of course. Knew that it made no sense. Rebuild a spaceship after a nuclear apocalypse? But I kissed him anyways, trying, hoping, praying that he was real, that he wouldn't fade away. \n\nIt didn't work for long. It never did. \n\nI woke up alone.\n***\n(minor edits)\n\nIf you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,985	10,222	0.011523	1,839	[ { "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 wizard's apprentice, and of course the first few years involve running errands and doing other tasks. He hands you a daily schedule, but to your confusion the total hours for the different tasks add up to more than 24. \"Figure it out\" He says, \"I chose you for a reason.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I am the wizard's apprentice. Every town nowadays has a wizard, they’re just so darn good at solving every problem. When a doctor has no cure for a mysterious illness, the local wizard whips up a panacea. When a farmer's pesticide doesn’t work on the new species of insects, the local wizard mixes it with a homemade solution and it works like a charm. And finally, when a young boy or girl wants to learn the ropes, the wizard takes him or her in as an apprentice.\n\nIn any case, it was my third day on the job. Before I was allowed to study the tomes that lined the wizard's shelves, I ran errands for him every day. This particular day, the wizard handed me a list of errands and the amount of time he suspected it would take me to complete each one. At first, nothing caught my eye: depart at 9:00; buy three pounds of talcum powder in the market for 2 grams of gold or less (1 hour); bring the medium saucepan to the local blacksmith and help him in any way you can for 7 grams of gold or less (3 hours); buy 6 ounces of oregano from the gardener the town east from here for a gram of gold or less, stick to the trails as you cut through the forest (2 hours); make your way back to town, attend the public town hall meeting, take minutes (a page will do) (2 hours); find the book store in the town west from here and buy a copy of \"Chronolagius\" by Walt Ester (2 hours). Come back (1 hour). Report back by 8:00\n\nI was about to depart when I noticed a computational error in the wizard's list. The hours on the list totaled up to 12 hours, but it instructed me to return within only 11. When I asked the wizard what to do, he told me there was no error, saying, \"Figure it out, I chose you for a reason.\" With that, I left.\n\nUpon searching for what felt like forever, I finally found a merchant who was willing to sell me a bulk of talcum powder; he wanted to charge me three grams of gold, but once I explained it was for the local wizard he lowered the price to two. The blacksmith was willing to fix the saucepan for only 5 grams, but I needed to help him out. He heated and fused the cracks and scratches, and I hammered it flat. With a refurbished pan in my hand, I walked through the eastern forest en route to the gardener's house. The forest is filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty monsters and critters, but the path was enchanted by the wizard to keep them at bay. The sweet, old woman felt honored that such a \"youthful apprentice\" took any interest in her work and sold the oregano to me for free! The town hall meeting was a snore, but I managed to write a full page of minutes.\n\nAt this point it was 6:00 in the evening. All the hammering, walking, and note-taking had worn me down, but the next town was at an hour-long trip each way. Anxious that I would miss my curfew, I started running. Lucky for me, the western town and my town were connected by a main road as opposed to a forest path, so there was no danger in traveling there after sunset. As you'd imagine, I ran out of energy running and didn’t end up at the bookstore until 7:15. The wizard had a reason for allotting an extra to find the book: the store was massive! The Roman catacombs were probably easier to navigate than this bookstore; furthermore, I had no idea what type of book this \"Chronolagius\" was, so I had no idea where to start. In the heat of the moment, I concluded that it must have been a tome on metaphysical magic. After a half hour of searching, I found it on the third floor, in that exact section, sitting on the third shelf, sporting a shiny gold border on the binding.\n\n7:45 in the evening. Having lost all hope of making my curfew, I gloomily walked out of the bookstore. Surely the wizard was going to be mad at me and yell at me and probably fire me. So much for my dream of becoming a fully-fledged wizard and helping as many people as possible. About five minutes into my march of defeat, I inspected the front cover more carefully. A quote from the author was printed on the bottom; it read, \"Look in front of you, answer is seldom far.\"\n\nI felt a swell of confidence upon reading that uplifting quote. I stepped to the side and inspected my list of errands once more. In a state of exuberance, I noticed how boldly the words \"gold\" and \"page\" were written compared to everything else. \"Two gold,\" \"Seven gold,\" \"One gold,\" \"Page.\" I looked at the book and once again noticed the gold border around the binding. Did the wizard leave me some sort of cryptic message? Figuring I had nothing to lose, I turned to page 271. Sure enough, my solution was there.\n\n\"Time-Stop Solution - Prep Time: 30 seconds - Serves 1. To prepare the solution, whisk a pinch of talcum powder and a pinch of oregano in a medium saucepan over no heat. Serve and consume immediately. Will grant consumer two hours of stopped time, which can be spent in any way permitted by the High Council of Wizardry\"\n\nI followed the directions exactly. It was the most foul-tasting concoction I ever put in my mouth, but it worked as advertised. Everything around me stopped and turned a shade of gray; the world stood still, but I did not. With this extra time, I returned to the wizard's abode with plenty of time to spare. Once time returned to normal, the wizard collected the items from me, patted me on the head, and congratulated me on completing his test. To this day I still work for him, and I am well on my way to becoming just like him some day.\n\n--------------------------------------------\n\nEdit: Thank you everyone for your feedback! Upon rereading it, you're all right, I messed up my math. I changed the whole schedule a couple of times while I was writing this, and I guess I forgot to change something along the way. I'll definitely be more diligent next time!\n\nAnother edit: An ounce of silver! I can buy a candy bar for an ounce of silver, thanks a ton benevolent stranger. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,377	10,216	0.106462	1,861	[ { "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": " Elon Musk has finally landed on Mars, and he has decided to claim it as his own. This prompts a declaration of war from the UN. Though the rest of Earth can't land on Mars yet, they can still throw things at it", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Marsdate: 25:412.47 [2063/10/21]\n\nElon Musk gazed over the domed city of Nuevo Angeles, admiring his work. Spires of rusty concrete rose from the glimmering red streets below like blades of grass in an alien plain. Millions of upstanding Martian citizens, many of whom were native-born, bustled about in electric cars, feeding off the solar farms that extended for miles around this veritable jewel of the wastes.\n\nOf course, Nuevo Angeles was but one of many such settlements. Elon simply liked this one the most, as it sat just to the south of Mars' Equator. Outside temperatures during the day were high enough that he only needed his relatively light standard-issue pressure suit to be fairly comfortable, which was nice for days of exploration like these. Even in his ripe old age, Elon loved to explore his planet, and the lessened gravity certainly helped his old creaking bones withstand the journey.\n\nElon slid down the railing of a spiral staircase into his garage, set into the side of a lava tube etched under the dusty plains of Tyrrhena a couple billion years ago. This particular tunnel ran straight out under the perimeter dome, and was sealed at both ends by a pair of titanium air locks. Hopefully, even these would become obsolete by the turn of the next century; Elon's fledgling atmospheric restoration project had already thickened the outside air five-fold, to a twentieth of an Earth atmosphere. Soon, this world would support billions of humans without the need for external oxygen or pressure suits... Elon caught himself before venturing further into his tangent. 'Ah, yes. Explore.'\n\nElon felt the whoosh of vented atmosphere behind him as the outer airlock hissed open, revealing the stark sunset landscape that was Mars. He set out on his six-wheeled rover, driving the same route he drove almost every day for a dozen Martian revolutions, under the huge arrays of solar panels, through the narrow crevasse between two old perimeter walls, and out into the plains beyond. Elon heard his excited breathing against the plexiglass of his suit even after all these years, and could feel the smile creeping up on his face as he spotted his fleet of immense iron collectors in the distance, diligently sweeping up oxide dust and spitting out plumes of water vapor, adding wispy clouds to an otherwise clear and rosy sunset skyline. It was beautiful.\n\nAs Elon began the drive home, his suit picked up an alert, like it had every week or so for the past several revolutions. He looked up beyond the crimson horizon due northwest. He watched a series of nuclear-tipped point defense missiles illuminate the blackness of space as they sublimated a barrage of ninety-ton railgun rounds. He watched the laser guidance systems of Nuevo Angeles and a dozen other cities activate, selecting cold targets yet invisible to the naked eye. He watched his own railguns spin up, aim, and fire, projecting a hundred blue streaks of tungsten oxide plasma up and up and up at a dozen times escape velocity, each on an intercept course with some hidden warhead.\n\nA couple taps on his helmet patched him in to the Martian Aerospace Defense radio network, where he listened as dozens of field commanders and space station operators coordinated firing solutions. These men and women were undoubtedly the best and brightest Mars had to offer; it had been six years since they missed a target. But that lone target nicked Ibn Sina Station on Olympus Mons, and eighteen thousand of Mars' best students died in seconds. A shell the size of a house impacted the pressurized tower at a hundred seventy thousand miles an hour, with the force of a megaton thermonuclear warhead. Elon's expression twisted at the memory of frozen body parts being dredged from the sides of that crater. 'Never again.' He pulled up a detailed trajectory map of the incoming projectiles and back-traced them to their respective guns, situated on Earth's moon.\n\n\"Attention Mars Aerospace Defense. This is General Musk.\"\n\nThe chatter died instantly.\n\n\"Batteries one, four, nine, twelve, thirty-four, and forty-one, disengage point defense and switch to target designate Lima-Uniform-November-Alpha. Surface coordinates are sixty-one-point-nine-two-one-five north, one hundred fifty-four-point-zero-eight-three-three west. Aim for the guns only. Do not target human operators. Standby for further orders.\"\n\nAnother volley of blue streaks rocketed out of the atmosphere, tracking a new angle off to the east.\n\nElon knew this war would come. He understood that the governments of Earth would never willingly surrender their ways, even if it meant the survival of mankind. Elon couldn't let the same greed that poisoned Earth travel to Mars, especially using his technology. So he built his colony. Hourly flights from Earth carried settlers and building materials across the expanse of deep space to Mars, where settlements popped up like dandelions. Three million people migrated over the course of a dozen years, and together they established a self-stabilizing economy, agriculture, power grid, and water network. \n\nAnd then Elon cut the cord. The last ships were halfway to Mars by the time those remaining on Earth blew themselves up in their hangars. Elon would craft a world free of money, of corruption, of famine, of poverty, of strife, but most importantly, free of Earth. It would become a glistening ecumenopolis of technological advancement, a shining ruby in the cold outer reaches of the inner Sol system. Earth was doomed, but Mars would survive, as an independent planet. As expected, the United States and China promptly declared war on Mars, followed shortly thereafter by most of the developed world. The governments of Earth called themselves liberators. They wished to cast Elon as a tyrant, a rogue megalomaniac sociopath bent on world domination, whether that be on Earth or Mars. Of course, they could not be more wrong; Elon crafted a governing council before even leaving Earth's gravity well.\n\nThat was over twenty-five years ago.\n\nNow, Mars is home to fifteen million hardworking citizens, sitting on trillions of dollars of resources. Manned missions have been sent to Jupiter's icy moons and to Titan. Entire cities have been constructed without enough people to fill them. And as Earth slowly chokes on the fumes of its own failures, Mars builds itself a fresh, clean atmosphere.\n\nInstead of cherishing this victory for mankind, however, the Earth decided it wanted a controlling share. They know they can't land people until the colony is dead, so they try to bomb it back into the dust, just like Germany, or Japan, or Vietnam. But Mars is ready. Mars will not yield to the tyranny of a dying world.\n\nMars can throw shit, too.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,712	10,214	0.011314	700	[ { "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": " Pets are intelligent. Religious dogs worship humans as gods, while cats see us as a natural resource. You see your dog chasing away stray cats pestering you for food, not realizing he is a knight from the Order of Saint Good Boy protecting you from harvesters from the Cats Corporate Dominion.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "He was a knight, valiant protector of humans. His motives were pure, altruistic, and for the good of the many. Dave was the best among humans, offering kindness, table scraps, and tummy scratches to all doggykind. Truly, Dave was worthy of his protection and devotion. \n\nFortunately, the OGB agreed. They sent him, Spot III, son of Spot Jr and Maggie May, the result of careful months training, to the human Dave. To uphold Dave's orders, and protect Dave's sacred threshold. To share in Dave's honors, and to support him in his pains. To be the most loyal, obedient, and caring dog to ever cross Dave's path.\n\nDave, of course, knew nothing of this. \n\nThe only opposition to Spot's sacred duty were the CCD. They blasphemed against the humans, claiming they rose to their position by luck! Can you imagine it? Luck, instead of their divine wisdom. Blasphemy, obviously. They viewed humans as a potential resource, not as the paragons of virtue they most certainly were. \n\nThe CCD was targeting Dave, due to his sincere and gentle nature. They thought they could take advantage of his divine generosity! Spot could not let this insult stand. \n\nDave PoV\n\nHe woke up one morning to see Spot, the dog he'd adopted, chasing stray cats down the street, and raising an incredible racket. \n\n\"Spot!\" He yelled. \"Get back over here!\"\n\nSmugly, Spot trotted back. \n\n\"I left that food out for the cats, Spot! Don't chase them!\"\n\nSpot's heart almost stopped at Dave's next words.\n\n\"Bad dog.\"\n\n\nDisclaimer- Spot is actually a good boy. I'm sorry.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,299	10,213	0.027151	1,151	[ { "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": " It was then Harry Potter realized the last 7 years in Hogwarts was actually a mental institute. The man he thought to be Dumbledore was just an elderly caretaker. Harry, looking at an old broken twig he once believed was a wand, started to remember what really happened during those years.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"This... is the Chamber of Secrets?\" Harry asks, wide eyed as he stepped inside the gloomy room. A chair lay in the center of the room, next to a table full of strange machinery. The wires leading out of the machines were tied together to resemble a thick strand of rope. The doctor points the thick strand out to Harry. \"This is what you thought was the Basilisk.\"\n\n\"These beautiful black orbs in front of the chair,\" the doctor continues, \"Are the newest in electroconvulsive therapy. Without causing the physical trauma of direct electrical impulses, it only triggers certain neurons in the brain that we can specifically target. They caused you to constantly lose all physical mobility because of which you refused to look at them. In your mind these were the eyes of the Basilisk.\"\n\nHarry staggered backward, his head spinning with the sheer magnitude of the reality shaking his foundation. \"What about my parents? Are they alive then?\"\n\n\"Harry...\" the doctor says, sympathetically. \"I know all this is difficult to take in, but you're a wonderful human being. Your parents never understood what was wrong with you. They blamed you for being born the way you were, what they described as \"lacking any semblance of wit or intelligence\", and left you in our care. When they tried explaining to you that they were leaving for good, it just wouldn't get through to you. After they deserted you here, you conjured up an intricate story where they died protecting you. Because that's how your mind works. It can't handle any more trauma. It is stretched to its absolute limits.\"\n\nHarry almost fell to his knees. He fought back the tears and the feeling of defeat creeping into his heart. His parents were never around anyway. There was a more important question in his mind. But could he conjure enough strength to ask?\n\n\"Ron... Hermione..\" Harry somehow managed to sputter out.\n\n\"Harry, your parents left you because they blamed you for not being normal, for lacking simple intelligence. A part of you understood their betrayal, but the rest of you refused to acknowledge that reality. In your world, your two best friends are those that embody those very qualities. Loyalty and intelligence. Ron and Hermione.\"\n\nHarry was weeping now, like a child that had tasted grief for the very first time. Everything was a lie. All of it. Everyone was a figment of his crippled imagination; how was he supposed to live in the real world if the one he spent most of his life in never existed? In the midst of all the crying, Harry felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"You're wondering what is true and what isn't, I know. It is difficult to be diseased, and somehow, harder when you're cured. Suddenly the world is nothing like you have known it. But Harry, isn't recovery a form of magic? For most of your life, your parents locked you in a closet under the stairs, refusing to tell the world about you because they were embarrassed of your predicament. For seven years, you held a broken twig in your hand, ran into walls over and over convinced that there was something magical on the other side. You mumbled constantly about fulfilling some prophecy and about beating some Dark Lord and surviving to tell the tale. And here you are. Your world is still full of magic. Like we heard you say out loud one night- you are a wizard, Harry. And despite all the unfortunate losses, setbacks and misforunes you have endured, you made it. To us, those who have constantly witnessed broken beings wither away, of seeing sanity die a slow death between these walls, you will always be The Boy Who Lived.\"\n\nr/whiteshadowthebook\n\nEdit: Thank you for the Platinum, Gold and Silver, kind strangers :) Also a big hug to everyone else for leaving such beautiful comments and for all the love, thank you so much again!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,353	10,206	0.019785	1,052	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have undergone experimental surgery to be one of the first soldiers equipped with a first person shooter-like HUD showing your health, weapon equipped, current missions, etc. But, they forget to remove it after you retire from service, and you find it surprisingly helpful in civilian life.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My time in the army would be considered a failure by most reasonable standards. I never really had it in me to be a fighter, and the attempt to \"game-ify\" didn't exactly fix things because gore in games made me sick too. I wasn't dishonorably discharged and I didn't go AWOL, but I sure wasn't the shining beacon of hope they think a soldier should be. I did my duty, and that was it.\n\nI dunno if the implants were supposed to come out or not, but they didn't, and I wasn't bothering to have them removed. At first I found them annoying, but it's the sort of thing that grows on you. \n\nThe weapons display is mostly useless. I mean, I can gauge the relative damage that could be dealt by a stab or throw with various pens I own. And that part of the HUD turns green when I hold a steak knife. But it does help me remember to go to the gym, because I can see the power of a punch slowly dropping the less in shape I am.\n\nThe health one is surprisingly useless. How physically ready I am for a fight compared to maximum doesn't really come up much. It goes down when I'm on the toilet or in bed. It goes up when my heart rate is up. Again, the only real benefit is when exercising, knowing when my heart rate is up and timing it.\n\nInventory management is nice, but non-essential. I get to know that my keys are on me and how much money was in my wallet last I looked. Hunger, and tiredness tell me nothing I don't already know. And I seriously want to punch the idiot who thought that I really needed a RAGE meter. To tell how angry I am. Because I definitely couldn't figure that out on my own. Oh hey there it goes again, right on cue. Thanks rage meter, couldn't have figured that out. You're the best.\n\nReally though, I shouldn't downplay how life-changing the implant was. Quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to me. And that's because of something programmed in that feels like it was almost an afterthought by the designer, the \"current mission\" info box in the corner. \n\nI don't stay focused well. Or rather, didn't. But the box works off my subconscious amazingly well. Not only does it focus on my higher priorities, but if I spend a little time thinking about a problem, it will keep the breakdown of steps in order of what's necessary to complete my objective, no matter how simple. And it prioritizes things. \n\nSounds useful? You have no idea. I wouldn't have my current career, wife, or house without it. Even if I'd made it that far, I'd have likely burned myself out at my job without it. If I compare before and after, I can easily see my former self as a homeless fool after leaving the army. \n\nI used to wonder what I'd do if someone from the R&D department came to \"fix\" me and remove this system that's pretty much become a part of me. I used to, because the escape contingency plan has literally been finalized for a decade, though it occasionally gets a tweak or two. I probably won't need it, but as I learned long ago, it pays to be prepared, and know what your priorities are.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,552	10,202	0.047412	787	[ { "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 with your cell phone in your hands, and the afterlife customs agents miss it when letting you in. You find that it still works, and you can connect to the internet and contact people in the living world.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": " I made sure the phone was turned off then set it on the dinette table. It had vibrated in my pocket on the walk from the gate to my new afterlife digs, prompting the guide to pause for just long enough to make me wonder if she was fixing to eject me from this new life. It was weird; I assumed that, as a dead person, my anxiety stomach would be just as dead as me. But, no. There it was. Gurgle Stomach, with a side of Hot Face.\n\n“Someone’s nervous on their first day!” the guide chirped while patting my shoulder. \n\nShortly after, she deposited me here. In this Death Condo that looked like a replica of my freshman dorm room except white. White on white on white on white ad infinitum. For someone who, in life, was physiologically incapable of not spilling, splashing, or spraying food and drink on themselves, the floor, and the walls. \n\nI was starting to wonder if this was actually Hell.\n\nLaying in the void of that matte white everything, the phone was glaringly, offensively black. A malignant stain in this supposedly perfect place (unless it was Hell, which was still a possibility). \n\nWho had even called?\n\nI snatched it from the table and fired it up. One missed call. No message, but it was just my manager and it wasn’t like work was part of my life anymore. \n\nWait. Did I have to have a job here? This crappy Death Condo indicated that there might be a Death Cubicle in my future. Is this where those calls about our cars’ extended warranties come from? Would I have to telemarket from here? Or-- oh god, no. Do customer support? Was this Comcast?\n\nThe phone binged. Incoming message from…my manager. Firing me via text. \n\nWithout thinking, I texted back, “U can’t fire me I’m dead. Car accident yesterday.”\n\nI opened the browser, googled my name, and copied the first article link. Texted it to him. Waited.\n\nThe phone binged. Incoming message: “wtf who is this”\n\n“OK,” I cackled, pulling the phone close. “Let’s bring new meaning to the term ‘ghosting.’”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,685	10,201	0.066252	1,495	[ { "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 dude with no friends who gets his hands on a cloning machine. You create an exact replica of you, he looks the same, acts the same, and you're forced into living with him. You realise why you have no friends after having to live with yourself for a week.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "He opens his eyes and…he is perfect. You smile back at him, your breath catching in awe.\n\n‘Welcome,’ you say, hand reaching out to brush against his chest. ‘I can’t believe we did it.’\n\nHe scowls at you.\n\n‘Whatever.’\n\n*\nOn the first day, he does nothing but demand things from you. He wants food, he wants beer, he wants to be left alone…\n\n‘Why are you speaking to me?’ he huffs, trying to watch the football match. ‘We’ve never needed conversation before.’\n\nIt is true, you concede. You like being alone. But you created him because you thought that FINALLY, there would be someone worth your time. You don’t say this to him.\n\n\nOn day two, you shout at him. He’s been wearing your clothes, and now you have nothing to wear for work.\n\n‘So put a wash on,’ he snaps, and takes a drink. You hate doing laundry, and tell him as much. He snorts, and wanders out of the kitchen. ‘Not my problem.’\n\nThere are dirty dishes in the sink also, and you growl slightly. The sound of the TV clicks on from the other room.\n\n\nOn day three, you ask him to go to work for you.\n\n‘Why do I need to be the one constantly going to the office?’ you demand. ‘We both need the money, so we should do an equal share. Or you should get a damn job yourself, so we aren’t two people on one income!’\n\nHe stares at you.\n\n‘I hate working.’\n\nWell, so do you, but unfortunately you haven’t had much of a choice.\n\n‘I refuse to buy anything else for you,’ you threaten. When you come home from work, he is browsing Amazon. You can see there are items in his basket.\n\n‘How do you expect to buy that new game?’ you press. ‘You’ve got nothing to your name.’\n\nYou don’t mention you were planning on buying the game anyway.\n\n‘Actually, we have a lot to our name,’ he replies with a superior smile. ‘It’s not like I don’t know all of our bank account details.’\n\n\nOn day four, he takes the car out without asking.\n\n‘I need it to go to the grocery store,’ you snarl at him over the phone. ‘Bring the car back. It isn’t yours!’\n\nThere is a chuckle down the end of the line.\n\n‘It’s just as much mine as yours; I have every right to use it.’\n\nThe words are horribly familiar – you had said similar things to your older brother at one point, stealing his car and accidentally crashing it later that evening.\n\nHe doesn’t come home for hours.\n\n‘The back seat was excellent,’ he smirks at you. ‘Plenty of room for both me and the whore.’\n\nYou know this already, but don’t deign to give him a response.\n\n\nOn day five, you take him to the bar. \n\nYou start the evening tucked away in the corner. Soon however, a group of very pretty women stumble in, already drunk. You make eye contact with him, and for once you are on the same page.\n\nThe prettiest girl gives you a smile as you try to start up a conversation. \n\n‘I’m his twin brother,’ he interrupts, and you glare at him. The fight is on.\n\nHe undermines you at every turn, throwing harsh words out until you finally punch him in the face. The women all stop talking, and stare. \n\n‘I think it’s time we left,’ you say, dragging him out the door. The bartender is already calling the police, you can see.\n\n\nOn day six, you realize that you’ve made a terrible mistake. You should have never created him in the first place. Rather than be your friend, he is practically your enemy. He is a horrible human being…and what does that say about you?\n\nYou vow to dispose of your problem, quickly and quietly. And then you will take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. You will eradicate all of his hateful traits from your own personality, and then you will go and find some real friends. Lesson learned.\n\nIt isn’t murder, you tell yourself. He isn’t even a real person…just a copy.\n\n**\nOn day seven, you cook a large dinner for him - his final meal.\n\n‘I think we started off on the wrong foot,’ you paste on a fake smile. ‘Y’know, if we worked together in this world, who knows what we could achieve.’\n\nHe laughs at that, and conversation is surprisingly civil as you eat. He even stands up to help clear the table when you’re both finished. You feel a surge of generosity towards him.\n\n‘I’m not sure how much pie is left, but I’m sure we can split it,’ you throw out over your shoulder as you wander into the kitchen. You can kill him afterwards.\n\n‘No need to split,’ his voice purrs from behind you. A knife slides between your ribs, and you crash to the floor. ‘There’s only one of us, anyway.’\n\nThe last thing you see is your own smile.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
694	10,199	0.060233	564	[ { "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": " Inventing Bacteria that ate carbon dioxide was a miracle. Releasing it into the oceans, nature began to flourish intill it continued eating, taking more carbon dioxide even from the air. Humanity to survive, had to return to the mass burning of fossil fuels thus began a new era of steam punk.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "There was a time when scientists concluded we were the slave of our gut bacteria.... The theory never made the headlines, and always remained between fact and fiction. \n \nAnother story which hit too close to the reality was of the Dragon in his cave. How people of the village needed to feed him to keep him from burning them. \n \nNow that story has become a lesson to be taught in school \nAnd regurgitated by politicians at rallies. \nIf you don't give those damn bacteria what they want, they will burn you down. They literally did, the excess oxygen sparked at some point and whatever could burn, burned to Ashes. \n \nI'm sitting on a barstool from the bartender's side. The bar has become self serve now.... \nEveryone left when the town ran out of coal, but I'm staying.\nI don't want to run for a second time.... \nLast time I ran I let my family get scorched. \nHell, the oil supply was intentionally cut at the end, as mass burning produced a lot of C02, feeding the monster and keeping him merciful. \n\nI Pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up. \nAfter a drag or two I opened a window and lit the world on fire.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,578	10,198	0.015504	2,890	[ { "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 picked up an injured cat and patched it up overnight. The next morning, you woke up to see a family of witches standing beside your bed, and one of them is holding the injured cat in her arms. That witch said, “My cat wants to adopt you. So you’re now one of us.”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "mew?\n\n\"Well. Hello there, little one!\"\n\nmew?\n\n\"Looks like you've been in a nasty fight.\" Now that was an understatement. A ripped ear, gouge in the throat, heavy claw marks across the back shoulders, and I think broken ribs.\n\nmau!\n\n\"Should see the other guy?\" Damn, she needs help. I wonder if she'll let me?\n\npurr\n\n\"How about I take you to an emergency vet for help?\"\n\nHISSS!\n\nClaws out and blazing yellow eyes! Yipe! \"Okay! Message received! My place and you put up with my thumb fingered best?\"\n\npurr purr purr\n\nPlan accepted, I set my walking stick against a tree. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. They also provide what I need to turn my jacket into a sort-of cat litter. Not that I'd mind carrying her, but she's badly hurt. I'd hate to make her hurt any more. I place my rough construction on the ground. Just my jacket zipped up with the sleeves inside, and two stout sticks run through the sleeves. She looks at it and loafs herself in it perfectly.\n\npurrrr\n\n\"I hope this is less painful than me carrying you in my arms.\" Sad yellow eyes.\n\nmau\n\n\"Here we go.\" I don't grab the ends. I lift the branches from the middle until I can take them in one hand and lift the litter. Not a peep out of her. I know that hurt, but not a peep. \"Brave, little one. I'll do my best for you.\" Better move as fast as I can, without swinging her around.\n\n\"Hey, mister! You need any help?\"\n\nA kindly lad, but \"Thanks for asking, but I've got it.\"\n\n\"Okay, take care. There are strangers in the wood today. Didn't like the look of them.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the warning. You be careful too.\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nAnd we part our ways.\n\nThree-quarters of the way home, and another encounter. This one twangs my nerves. Whispered, \"by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.\" A nearly silent growl is little one's response. Unkempt. Scratched and bloody.\n\n\"I'll help you with that.\"\n\nhisss\n\n\"You'll do no such thing. Leave us be, or you'll have a taste of my walking stick.\"\n\nHe glances at it with a sneer on his face, only to go pale and take a longer look. His eyes are frightened when he looks at me again.\n\n\"Meaning no disrespect, Mister. If you allow, I'll be on my way.\" He turns and runs away.\n\nI take a moment to glance at my staff. It's an oak branch from an old tree blasted to flinders by lightning one terrible night. I thought it fitting that such a grand tree have a second chance.\n\n…—… Long Ago …—…\n\n\"I'd like to have a straight, stout branch to make a walking stick from. You deserve a chance to keep helping people, other than as firewood.\" A crack, and this branch, just the right size, dropped at my feet.\n\n\"Thank you for your gift.\" I picked it up and took it home. It dried straight and true. I smoothed it with sand and stone as was done of old. I might have left it that way, but something moved me to work on it more. Thinking about it, I studied symbology and carved glyphs of power, good fortune, and protection into it. Those I inlayed with cold iron wire. The whole was well rubbed with linseed oil to a high polish.\n\n\"I hope this meets with your approval.\" I swear, for a moment, it felt as if something ancient covered me with its hands.\n\nBefore you ask, no, I am not a practitioner of the arts. Unlike many, I do not hold them in contempt. \"An it harm none, do as ye please\" seems as good a life rule as any, and not as dominating as most. You have more to fear from those who insist you live their way than from anyone who holds to that creed.\n\nFrom that day forward, I never left my house without it. I received many compliments from most of the town, except those I knew to be heavily involved with patriarchal religions. They used to be pleasant towards me; now they were at best brusk, and often rude.\n\nOne of them took me aside, not unkindly, and suggested that the staff was inappropriate. \"Why?\" He looked at me sadly. \"Those carvings, for all that they are exquisitely done, are evil.\" I was amused. \"Do you know what they stand for?\" He responded that he did not. I invited him for a pint, and he accepted.\n\nWhile we sat in that quiet pub, I explained the meaning and origin of each of those symbols. He was both interested and troubled. \"You seem troubled. May I help?\" He looked at me. \"You already have. The trouble is within me. I cannot resolve the teachings of my religion with the things you have told me.\" A crisis of conscience then. \"Follow your heart.\" Was the only advice I could give him.\n\nWe parted amicably and remained friendly. I noticed him giving aid to those the rude ones ignored. He came in for a share of their rudeness, publicly, and gave them better than he received. He was quoting scripture at them at how they should behave. This only angered them more. People of the town gathered behind him, saying nothing, doing nothing, but providing him their support nonetheless.\n\nI stood to the side, between them, and in reach of my walking stick. When one of the rude ones made to step forward with raised hand. My stick snapped up between them. Thus far, and no farther, was the message. The rude ones grew angry and tried to snatch the stick from my grasp. I do not know how it happened, but between that walking stick and myself, we avoided every attempt to take it away. Never once touching them with it, never allowing them to touch it or lay hands on me.\n\nAs they grew winded, the town folk were laughing. I began to smile. A bemused sort of smile, not quite understanding what was happening, just keeping them from taking my stick.\n\nThe constables found it less than amusing for a bunch of self-righteous twits trying to take an older man's walking staff. Yes, age was catching up with me, but the doctor was always praising me for staying fit.\n\nFrom that day forward, the rude ones ignored me, their leader apologized for their behavior, and many of the townsfolk would ask my advice on simple matters. I was met with smiles and greetings, and never saw the rude ones again save for fleeting moments until they noticed me and found other places to be.\n\nWhen I retired, I spent even more time in the common wood. People began to seek me out in the wood. As we walked, we talked, and they always left in better state than they came. I learned that wood and all that it contained—so many things of interest. The youngsters who enjoyed the wood came to ask me about what they saw in that wood. I answered with the truth, and they learned how important the wood was to the town and the people.\n\n…—… Now …—…\n\nFinally, little one and I have reached my cottage. I set her litter gently on the kitchen table, got out what simple bandages I had, and applied first aid principles to my treatment.\n\nThroughout, little one took it all without complaint, moving just as I needed her to so that I could clean and bandage her wounds.\n\n\"Rest, little one; no one will disturb you here,\" while setting out a saucer of milk.\n\npurrrrr purr purr\n\nI left her with a thick cushion and went to bed—my staff at her side.\n\n…—… The Next Day …—…\n\n\"Good Morning.\"\n\nThat was not a voice I knew, and female too. My eyes snapped open—a whole troop of women from young to old, dressed in simple skirts of black cloth, surrounded my bed.\n\nI looked at them as they looked at me. \"Good Morning,\" I responded. \"May I have some time to make myself presentable?\" I saw little one smuggled in the arms of one of the younger ladies. The eldest nodded, the others filed out of my bedroom.\n\nI made my hasty toilet and came out to meet them. Only the eldest and the younger with little one snuggled close remained. Just as well, the entire troop would have crowded us badly. Sitting at my usual place at the table was my walking stick and the light breakfast I was accustomed to. They had simple cups of tea that were not in any of my mugs.\n\nThey waited quietly until I had finished, politely turning down my offers of breakfast for them.\n\n\"My cat wants to adopt you, so you're one of us now.\" The younger one announced. The eldest gently asked her to leave, and so she did.\n\n\"She is young and a bit cheeky, but her heart is in the right place. Yes, her cat has asked to adopt you, which would make you part of our circle, but you do not have to accept.\"\n\nI ponder this. \"What is your first rule?\"\n\n\"An it harm none, do as ye will.\"\n\nI do not know where the rest of the questions came from, but my hand rested on my stick without conscious thought. The answers were straightforward and rang true.\n\nWe sat together after that, she waiting patiently for my answer, me pondering what to do. Honestly, it may have felt like hours, but it was no more than a minute.\n\n\"I am pleased to accept.\"\n\nThere was a quiet cheer from outside, which got both of us to smile. In the coming months and years, people saw me speaking with those ladies in the wood. Where they had shunned them before, they now would talk to them politely. Soon enough, the ladies in black were as sought for wisdom as I was. The commons became a thoughtful retreat for the older townsfolk and a safe playground for the children. Their gleeful laughter added to the peace of the common woods.\n\nEven the religious leader came to walk there and speak to all. I talked with him one day.\n\n\"Wisdom comes from many places if your heart is open and your mind as well.\"\n\nThe rude ones shortly left the town, always for a job elsewhere that paid better. It was sad to see them go; their hearts and minds still closed.\n\n((finis))\n\nEdited: added explicit time breaks. Some folk were having a bit of trouble.\n\nMoving: I've started transfer to RoyalRoad.com.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,491	10,194	0.062698	2,325	[ { "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 extremely famous. Everyone knows who you are. The only thing is, you don't know why you're so famous. You don't come from a rich family and you're unemployed. You don't even remember how you got a mansion or a Lamborghini. Even stranger, everybody looks so scared when you bring it up.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Singing, right? It was probably singing. Innocuous, generally cheerful, and a totally normal reason to wake up famous in a giant fucking mansion and have everyone revere me for something I. Can’t. Remember.\n\nOkay. Here’s the lowdown. Two weeks ago, I woke up in a stranger’s bed, in a stranger’s home. As a 24\\-year\\-old not completely ugly woman, my initial reaction was complete and utter panic. I startled out of the bed so quickly that I nearly broke my ankle. But I was still wearing all of my pjs from the night before, and it was a freaking Wednesday—I haven’t gone out on a Wednesday since my days in uni.\n\nThen shit got really, really strange.\n\nMy phone was plugged in next to me, fully charged. Three photographs were hanging above the bed. A picture of me with my parents, a picture of me with my little brother, and a picture of me with Jeffers, my lovely border collie. The bedroom was decorated perfectly—just the right amount of white and black, clean vases with white flowers on two bed stands, an alarm clock right next to me reading 9:43, and a splash of color on the curtains by the window. And then Jeffers ran up to me and jumped up on the bed, snuggling right in as if he had lived here for all of his 24.5 dog years. I mean, seriously. I just about threw up.\n\nThe rest of the house shared the immaculate qualities of the bedroom. And it was massive. A media room, hottub, pool, master bedroom, giant kitchen, tasteful living room, and a wine cellar I could get lost in. It was morning outside, so I didn’t feel quite so spooked walking through the house, especially because the natural light seemed to reach every nook. Also, my name was everywhere. “Tara Wick” read the plaque above the stove. I found another one in the office above my desktop computer. And again, in the wine cellar, on the freaking labels of all the bottles. Some of them dated back to the 1980s. They all had the same design, like a seal had been commissioned to my name, and I had just decided to put it everywhere. It was definitely way too tacky for my liking, but I had more pressing issues, like “what the fuck is going on?” and also “no, really, what the fuck is going on?” I also found the “Tara Wick” on the car keys which I discovered in the exact drawer where I would have chosen to put them. The car keys to a red Huracán Spyder Lamborghini. My dream car, worth around $265,000, which I soon found sitting unlocked in the garage.\n\nWhat does a normal person do in that situation? I honestly don’t know, but I can tell you what I did. I sat in the car for ten minutes. I pressed the power button and listened to it roar to life, a truly hormone inducing purr. Then, I turned around, walked back to the kitchen, and tried to catch my breath. Jeffers brought me his food bowl, and I began to act on autopilot. The pantry was easy to find; I got Jeffers his two scoops of kibble from his normal brand with the same cup I had used the day before in my tiny one\\-person apartment. Right as I was about to put down the bowl on the Jeffers’ very same dog towel, a woman walked in.\n\n“Good morning—” she said.\n\n“Bloody Fucking Christ who the hell are you?” I responded, dropping the dog food everywhere and nearly peeing myself from surprise. Jeffers didn’t mind the mess and began to eat.\n\n“I’m Jessica, your personal assistant,” Jessica replied. Brunette. Probably three years older than me, but definitely prettier. Her hair was straight and silky. I instinctively put a hand up to my black curls. “You have a very busy schedule today, Tara. Would you like me to tell you your schedule?”\n\n“Uh. Sure.” I said.\n\n“At 11:00, you have a meeting with Sir David Attenborough for tea. Don’t eat too much, you’ll be seeing Sir Ian McKellen at 12:30 for lunch. You’ll have time for a quick nap, and then its dinner with the American Ambassador. They want to talk about bringing in some higher ups to potentially meet you, but it’s a little bit of a drive, so we will have an escort for you, of course. Oh, and Eden Hazard has asked to take you clubbing tonight. Made a sizeable contribution to our charity, too. I penciled him in, but just leave whenever you want to. All of those soccer players are harmless.” Jessica seemed so very calm.\n\n“Can you, maybe, repeat that? A little bit slower?” I asked. Jessica simply nodded sympathetically.\n\n“I know you are stressed about seeing the Queen tomorrow, but don’t worry! It will actually be quite easy. They gave you the whole day, it will be so much less running around than usual, you’ll see,” Jessica said. “Go hop in the shower, Tara. I’ll pick out all the outfits you’ll need for the day while you are in there.”\n\nWhat does a normal person do in that situation? I still don’t know. But I showered. I got dressed in a stylish blazer for my meeting with Sir David Attenborough. And then I drove there, in a Lamborghini which apparently belonged to me, with the coordinates that Jessica had provided. After David offered me a surprisingly gracious hug, as if he had known for years, and called me “Tara, darling,” we sat down.\n\nI came right out with it. “Sir David—”\n\n“Please, call me David.”\n\n“David, please. What the hell is going on? I’m not famous, but this morning I woke up in a strange hou—” David cut me off with loud, forced laughter. Then he shook his head slowly at me and brought a finger to his lips. There was a deep sadness in his eyes.\n\n“So, you were going to ask me about my favorite documentary series?” David asked. What could I have done? Bullied one of England’s most famous figures and loved grandfathers into giving me the information I required? I let it go. We had a conversation about nature. I’d ask Ian McKellen.\n\nBut Ian McKellen gave me a similar response, even more visceral, the fear palpable on his face. I didn’t trust the American Ambassador, a Woody Johnson fellow who seemed overly interested in when the President of the United States was going to get to meet me. And when I tried to casually ask Eden Hazard how he knew me, he pretended that he didn’t understand English.\n\nTwo weeks passed this way. My every need was catered for, but I was kept so busy that I couldn’t find anytime to actually be alone. When I tried to call any of my old friends, or my family, I got no response. Texting was the same. I was a prisoner, in the nicest prison the world had ever constructed, meeting amazing, world\\-famous people every single day. But I definitely wasn’t happy. And ever since my date with Eden Hazard, I knew that I had to escape.\n\nI decided to take Jeffers for a midnight stroll. I knew that as soon as I left the house, they would be after me, but I still paused as soon as I left the door of my mansion. Every street light was on, but not a single house had any lights on inside. Too quiet.\n\nJeffers and I walked for 30 seconds, and then lunged into a sprint, rounding the corner of the suburb and ducking down into a wooded pond area by the side of the road. The sirens started almost immediately, and I could hear movement behind me.\n\n“Jeffers, let’s play fetch, okay buddy?” I said, removing his special orange ball full of treats. “Go get it!” I whisper yelled, and I threw with all my might. Then I moved in the other direction, ducking behind two trees. Jeffers barked happily through the cool air, and as soon as he began to do so, I heard men and women begin to shout. “Tara? Is that you? What are you doing out so late?” Jessica.\n\n“We cannot lose her.” Another woman. I recognized the voice. Surely…not Theresa May?\n\n“Tara? Where are you? We just want to keep you safe.” A man’s voice.\n\nAnd then another, directly below me.\n\n“What if she gets away?” Another man. His arms were held in front of him, as if holding a gun, but it was difficult to see for sure. The figure of his friend held a similar posture.\n\n“We would know,” the man’s friend responded. “Tara can’t get away. She’s the cure.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,728	10,193	0.025067	1,297	[ { "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": " murder is legal, once a permit has been obtained from the local police department. Permits require a declaration of a target victim and justification to commit the act. Once a permit has been issued it is valid for 72 hours. Once expired you can never get another for the same target victim.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The young, slick-haired boy smiled at the camera.\n\nDon Auditorio suppressed a sigh. They were all the same, these up-and-coming soldatos. Thought they were a rising star. Thought they knew how to do his job better.\n\n\"Not taking any risks, hm, boss?\" The boy grinned at lens hovering near his face.\n\n\"Be quiet,\" Auditorio said in a soft voice. It had been different once. Mafia associates had shown respect, because that was all that held everything together. But now the Mafia operated within... other constraints.\n\n\"There was evidence, Enzo.\" He said in his soft voice. \"An illegal kill. You know the feds don't tolerate it. Not these days.\"\n\nThe Don got up out of his chair and turned his back, facing the window, looking out onto the azure swimming pools and distant Sicilian beach. Sadly he still saw the smug kid's face in the reflection. At least the grin was gone now.\n\n\"I made sure to avoid federal drones,\" the boy said hotly. \"There was only mafia tech-\"\n\n\"I have the evidence,\" the Don said. \"If they find out I'm holding back illegal murders, they will open up a legal hit on me. And they are watching me, Enzo. You should've known that.\"\n\nThe young soldato paled.\n\n\"I should kill you right here,\" Auditorio said softly. He watched his wife and daughter, sunbathing near the pool. He felt nothing. He calmly turned around, his old Smith and Wesson already in his hand. They had railguns these days but he preferred the old feel. The old ways. Ah.\n\nThe boy had scrambled back, but Don Auditorio made a placid gesture.\n\n\"I am willing to hide the evidence,\" he said. \"But you understand, Enzo, that you're in my pocket now. You will obey my every command. You will scrounge in the dirt for me. Perhaps one day, I will burn the evidence files. One day, you may even become a Capo. But your independence is a thing of the past.\"\n\nThe boy slicked back his hair, out of words for once.\n\nThe Don lit up a cigar; he hated that e-cigarette cazzate.\n\n\"How's that girl of yours, Enzo? Sophia her name was, I think.\" He puffed some smoke, coughing. \"The red-haired one. Tell her to pay me a visit next saturday.\"\n\n\"A visit?\" All the boy's confidence was gone.\n\n\"Si. To pay her respects.\" Another puff. The Don turned back to the window, smiling. \"Like the old days.\"\n\nThe glass of the window cracked, a white star around a clean hole. Almost in surprise, Auditorio looked down at his chest, where a red flower of pain was blooming around a neat hole in the center, mirroring the glass. He tried to gasp, but his right lung was pierced.\n\n\"So you like the old days, eh, boss?\"\n\nEnzo was sitting in the chair, holding a slick new railgun. Silent. Efficient. Gone was the smugness, gone was the boy.\n\nAuditorio held on to the desk, trying to speak, but all he could do was smear blood on the polished surface.\n\n\"The illegal hit was staged, by the way,\" Enzo said. \"I'm working with the feds, they've suspected you of holding murder evidence for blackmail. Making this,\" he gestured at the Don's chest with his gun, \"A legal hit.\"\n\nThe Don reached for his S&W pistol, but Enzo shot it to smithereens with the railgun. Bits of metal flew everywhere. \"Get used to the new age, boss.\"\n\nThe Don was coughing, slouching on the desk.\n\nEnzo leaned in closer, whispering as he pulled the Don's ear to his lips. \"But this next shot is for what you did to Petro.\" He put another bullet clean through the Don's head. Revenge. At least that was according to the old days. Enzo wondered if Auditorio had really cared. Probably not.\n\nHe grinned again at the camera drone and took a bow. It would pay off to keep the feds happy, for now.\n\nAfter all, Enzo was a rising star.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,916	10,192	0.024396	1,334	[ { "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 abducted by aliens & soon realize it's more of an adoption than an abduction. You're now a pet for a loving alien family. They can't understand you but they seem to understand your body language & have basic knowledge of what humans need to live and entertain themselves when they're busy", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The three aliens smiled and hugged and tossed me an inflatable pool toy. \n\n“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “It’s a flamingo.”\n\n“Gorp, Bulargheraw!” the smallest alien said. \n\nThat’s Gorp. From what I gather, He (she?) is the equivalent of a moody, alien teenage girl. He’s got four tentacles the size of elephant trunks and a brain encapsulated in a spherical done—like something straight out of Futurama. \n\nThe oldest, largest, and smelliest alien sighed. “Gorp grable—Gardgle blather!”\n\nThat’s Gorp’s father—and he probably scolded Gorp for wasting intergalactic credits on yet another inflatable pool toy. I have a collection of them now. I think they enjoy watching me blow them up and then throw them across the room in frustration. \n\nWe don’t have a pool. \n\nI shouldn’t gripe. Honestly, Gorp isn’t that bad. He takes pretty good care of me—even dotes on me—like I’m the tiniest, fluffiest Pomeranian in a Pomeranian store. This is complete speculation, but I also believe I’m considered ‘spoiled’ relative to other abducted humans. \n\nI met another human on a walk; this homeless guy from Seattle didn’t have a single pool toy. I’ve got five. So that’s something. To be fair—that guy could be a wild human—it’s a bit hard to tell these days. \n\nPlanet ZorpZoop (I’m not making that up, I swear) is fairly hospitable. The aliens don’t need much for an environment; their think trunks protect them from most everything. Instead, they terraformed it to vary from a lush Panamanian jungle to a boggy Georgian swamp. They even threw some alligators in there for good measure. \n\nI’m terrified of alligators. \n\nAlso water. \n\nI’m glad we don’t have a pool. \n\nGlorp’s mother is another story altogether. From what I gather, their household is completely matriarchal. Anything she says is the word of law. \n\n“Gorp, slee wekanwakan!” is a common phrase. From what I gather, it’s something akin to “you disappoint me!” \n\nGorp’s trunks get all deflated whenever she says this, and I’ll go over and pat his brain-shield and whisper soothing things in his voice receptacle. He has no idea what I’m actually saying, but his trunks sometimes pat me back, which I assume means I did a good thing. \n\nGorp’s father feeds me regularly. They’ve got a matter replicator that I used once to make myself a bowl of Lucky Charms. This horrified them. They don’t let me touch the replicator anymore, but every once in a while, Gorp sneaks me a bowl of the sugary treat. Classic Gorp. \n\nInstead, twice a day, Gorp’s father gets me a pound of sliced ham, a milkshake, and a BLT sandwich. He lathers the whole thing in ranch dressing. Who puts ranch on a BLT? You’d have to be some kind of alien to think that’s a good idea. \n\nThey get me vitamin supplements too. I’m not sure how they managed to figure it out, but they hand me a bottle of Flintstone gummies every month. I hope that somewhere on the alien internet there’s a clickbait guidebook on “10 things you’d never guess about keeping a human. #7 will shock you!” and that flintstone gummies are number four, or something. \n\nPool toys are probably number three. \n\nAlligators are hopefully not on that list. \n\nLife is pretty casual. I mostly sit on the couch and watch old western movies. Alien TV has great reception, and every once in a long while I’ll tune in to a modern sitcom drama to watch how other humans are portrayed. Most seem to be worse off than I am. Some better, some with pools and other with alligators. \n\nBut I have Gorp, and Gorp has me, and that’s perfectly mediocre. \n\n&#x200B;\n***\nMore mediocre comedy at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH \nEdit: Glorp is Gorp's nickname... probably.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,725	10,178	0.01658	1,171	[ { "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 old legends say that only \"cold iron\" can kill the Fair Folk. Now, with the Goblin King invading the surface world, it's discovered that this was a mistranslation. The original phrase was \"Heavy Metal\".", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The Goblin King sneered at the humans before him. Many lay dead or wounded, while the remaining clutched onto an assortment of weapons: knives, billy clubs, pistols, even machine guns. It was no use; the clunky, earthy weapons of man were too weak against the skin of the Fair Folk.\n\n\"Surrender now, and your lives may yet be spared,\" The Goblin King said grandly. \"I am a merciful being; I should not kill any creature, even ones as low as your kind, without reason.\"\n\n\"Give up? So you can make us all slaves?\" a human cried out. She held tightly onto her rifle with a grim determination, but her trembling hands betrayed her. \"We would rather die.\" Several other humans echoed the cry, albeit with hollow voices.\n\nThe goblins cackled uproariously until their King raised a hand for silence. \"It aches me to hear such foolish, impractical arrogance,\" he said, shaking his head. \"But so be it. We shall give you release from your pathetic lives.\"\n\n\"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure,\" the same girl said with a grin. The King stared at her with a raised eyebrow, then followed the aim of her gaze at something in the sky. It was an enormous silvery zeppelin, slowly descending down on them. The King sniffed the air deeply.\n\n\"Lead?\" He said, surprised and amused. \"That's not even the right alloy. And even if it were iron, surely you must have realized by now that we have no such weakness as your legends describe...\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, turns out 'cold iron' is nonsense,\" she replied. \"But what about 'heavy metal'?\"\n\nAs if on cue, the deck of the zeppelin began to open. It revealed a group of men and women, dressed in tight, shiny leather, draped in silver chains, and wearing dark makeup. But it was their weapons that drove spears of fear into the hearts of the King and his goblin army: they wielded an assortment of instruments including multiple electric guitars, a full drum set, enormous speakers, and a tall, shining microphone.\n\nThe King's eyes widened. \"Retreat!\" He roared. \"Retreat before they--\"\n\nAH-AAAAAAAAH, AH!\n\nAH-AAAAAAAAH, AH!\n\nSeveral goblins hit the ground, whimpering in pain and clutching their heads. The music was far too powerful. The King aimed a heavy crossbow at the lead singer, but his strength was being sapped with each second the powerful riffs blew through his body.\n\nWe come from the land of the ice and snow \n\nFrom the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow...\n\nHis ears began to bleed, and the Goblin King had no choice but to drop his weapon and fall to his knees. The humans behind him cheered and rushed forward; their weapons would hurt a lot more now that the goblins were so severely weakened.\n\n\"Who would've thought that even a cover band would be so powerful?\" one guy shouted as he drove a knife through a goblin. It spasmed briefly before lying still.\n\n\"Just imagine if it was Jimmy himself,\" the girl yelled back as she drove a bullet into the back of the head of another goblin. \"They would've probably just exploded on the spot!\"\n\nWhat was left of the army hobbled a miserable retreat, led by their wounded King. This battle was already decided, so they had to regroup. The humans continued to push forward, chanting along with the lyrics while brandishing their weapons.\n\n*To fight the horde, and sing and cry* \n\n*Valhalla, I am coming!\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\nLiked that story? Want more like it? Check out* r/Idreamofdragons!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,201	10,173	0.028372	1,853	[ { "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": " Time travelers have become such a nuisance that governments have begun recording fake historical events that lead time travelers to areas where they can be arrested. You're a bartender at one of these artificial towns, trying to determine if the customer in front of you is from the future.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Something was up with that guy. Marian knew it. \n\n“So, like, is it usually this busy at this time?” he said, looking around, nervous.\n\n“Pretty much,” she replied, as she dried the glasses like a bartender in a 1940s film noir. She was not a \ngreat actor.\n\nHe took another scan around. On the edge. Nervous. “Anything… interesting going on lately in town?”\n\nThere it is, she thought. He was a time traveler. Now she was sure. It was just a matter of getting him to spill the beans so she could make the arrest.\n\nHe was being so obvious, too. Hoodie obscuring most of his face, gigantic sunglasses, shirt collar \nflapped up, avoiding her stare… he was obviously trying to hide his identity so he wouldn’t be \nrecognized in case he had to make a run for it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nShe had been hired by the Time Bureau to work the day shift at the 2021 Great Battle of Oceano \nIsland.\n\nNow, the 2021 Great Battle of Oceano Island never happened. It was a fake historical event the Time \nBureau invented to catch illegal time travelers. How it worked is they sent a couple of agents like Marian to the time and place and they worked commercial hours trying to get travelers to confess to what they were doing before they realized there was no battle to stop anyway. It wasn’t entrapment. It really wasn’t.\n\nOkay it kind of was. So?\n\nShe went back to her own time of 2035 every day after her shift. Back to her apartment in San \nFrancisco and her dog and Dylan. She took this particular shift because of Dylan, in fact. It was here at \nOceano Island, right at this day, at the square right across the street from the bar, that she had met \nhim. They both stopped to look at a missing dog flyer at the same time, and when he told her he always \nstops to look at missing pet flyers because he secretly hopes the pet will literally be right next to him \nand he’ll get to return it and be a hero she knew she’d marry him one day – because she always had that exact fantasy.\n\nAnd marry him she did, on her twenty-first birthday. And they’d been together now for fourteen years \n(well, in the real timeline she came back to after her shift that is, here in 2021 they were a few minutes away from actually meeting). She couldn't see the place where they met from the bar, but just being here at this time and place gave her an enormous sense of peace. Like she got to relive the most important day of her life again and again. The day she met the love of her life. The day she --\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Lady?” the concealed time traveler said. “You’ve been staring off into space for a long time.”\n\nShe turned back to the man. “Sorry,” she said. “What did you say?”\n\n“I asked if there’s anything interesting going on around town today.”\n\nShe smiled. “Not right now, but in a couple of minutes a girl will meet a boy just across the street at the \nsquare by the beach. And they’ll find out this very day they are each other’s soul mates.” She smiled.\n\nThe guy grunted, uninterested. Not what he was hoping for, she thought. What he was hoping for is ‘there’s been talks of a revolution and of a bomb' and all the other fake historical stuff about the Great Battle of Oceano Island.\n\n“Why?” she asked. “Do you expect something to happen today?”\n\nHe just kept looking at her. Deep into her eyes. Something about his look had an intensity to it she didn’t quite comprehend, even though she could barely see his face behind the layers and the giant sunglasses.\n\nHe just kept looking at her.\n\n“Can I help you?”\n\n“No, thanks,” he said, and he stepped out.\n\nDamn, she thought. She needed to improve her acting skills. She always gave herself away and \nscared off the potential illegal travelers.\n\n\n\nDylan stepped out of the bar and with difficulty made his way across the street toward the square. It \nwas lucky that the pole was out of the bar’s sight. What he was doing was very* illegal, but he was \ncounting on Marian and all the other agents being focused on the houses on the hill, because that’s \nwhere the fake battle had 'begun'.\n\nAnd so maybe then he can change the thing that really matters.\n\nHe removed the hoodie and the glasses and stared at the missing dog flyer. His mind went back to the awful hospital visit. The crestfallen look on the doctor's face. The tightening on his chest when he heard the news.\n\nThe doctor had given him another year with chemo. Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less. But there was no avoiding it. It was terminal.\n\nHe did not tell Marian. And he was not going to.\n\nShe was 34 still. Young enough to meet someone new once he was gone. Sure. But his \ndisease would break her. She took care of her father when he had cancer, and she almost never spoke of that \nperiod of her life. She was in her teens, and for the longest time the shadow of that year watching her \nfather wither away ate at her. Anti-depressants, booze, pills, suicidal thoughts… she went on a downward spiral after he died and it was only shortly before she met Dylan that she finally had found her bearings and gotten over it.\n\nAnd now he was going to do the same thing to her? All over again? No.\n\nNo he wasn’t. He'd face this alone. He wouldn't drag her life down with his.\n\n“There!” he heard in the distance. He turned. A group of time travelers were running up the hill, \nstorming the house were the alleged ‘revolution’ had started. Agents followed, Marian among them, \nready to make the arrest.\n\nGood. He had the place to himself now.\n\nIn the distance he saw his 20-year-old self approaching the square. On the opposite end, 20-year-old \nMarian. About to meet.\n\nHe took a deep breath. Then he ripped the flyer from the pole and crumbled it and he walked away and \nthen he turned back just in time to see two strangers passing one another by and going on with their \nlives, their future now forever diverging from the one he knew they could have had.\n\n“Sorry,” he said, as he watched her go. And he smiled. And then he turned away and he was gone.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n/r/psycho_alpaca", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,334	10,154	0.119841	1,697	[ { "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 more dangerous a job is, the more it pays. You just took a job offer to stand in an empty room and do nothing for $100k an hour.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "//Part 2 has just been added, it is a comment to this post. I couldn't add it to this post because of word count restrictions. Sorry ya'll.\n\n//UPDATE - Part 3 has been added. A reply to my part 2. Will try to link in a bit\n//FINAL UPDATE - I have officially made a subreddit, where I will post a finished story, along with additional completed works inspired by writing prompts! Feel free to subscribe to watch me try to actually get my shit together and finish the damn story.\n\nr/storiesfromapotato\n\nAll criticism is welcome! Please let me know what works and what needs to be improved!\n\nPart 1 :\n\nWe call it the hazard rate.\n\nThere are still merit based salaries, as it's unlikely to get gutted while working audit as an accountant, but for the more desperate people around the world, there are specialty positions. Always with hazard rates. Always flirting with lethal implications. And, quite obviously, not usually legal.\n\nLast job I took offered nearly twenty thousand an hour. Easy work, mostly. Just required patience and a good eye. Spot the snitch, point out the undercover cops, place a backpack behind their car and walk away within thirty seconds. Cops walk like they own the sidewalk, taking up far too much space. A snitch always checks his corners and looks over his shoulder. Wasn't too hard.\n\nThen wham, bam and kablooie. Ooey gooey cops and informants splattered all over the pavement. You'd need a God Damn spatula to clean that shit up. I spent my cab ride home counting cash while the sirens whizzed by me to the scene of the crime.\n\nSo imagine my surprise when the cold tip of a suppressor presses against my temple, with two unnecessarily massive men flanking my bedside. No words, no reason, and most assuredly uninvited. \n Part of me wanted to guess cops, maybe I'm somebody's loose end, but a man in this line of work knows there's nothing to gain by whining and begging. Just ask for a cigarette and a shot before they wipe you out.\n\nThey don't say anything. Instead some creepy mother fucker at the very end of my bed, dressed in a tan suit like some kind of asshole leers forward, tall as an oak and thin as a rail.\n\n\"Mr. Blackwood,\" he whispers. Barely audible.\n\n\"You're needed elsewhere.\"\n\nSo a black sack gets thrust over my head with a small flap to breathe through, and I know not to ask any questions. In this line of work you sit still and keep quiet until told otherwise. Inquisitive fucks end up dissolving in tubs of acid, and I don't think my health insurance covers that kind of shit.\n\nA long van ride, bumpy as shit, smelling of formaldehyde and rotting meat, and very poorly ventilated.\n\nAfter what I guess is an hour or two I'm shoved into a building, down some stairs, and into a room by the muzzle of a rifle. Lovely.\n\nOff comes the sack. Blinding light, and I find myself in a room smaller than a prison cell, totally devoid of any color besides the bleak gray of concrete. A single light dangles from the ceiling, sometimes flickering. Very cliche.\n\nThe man in the suit, who doesn't and hopefully won't tell me his name, simply hands me a small yellowed piece of paper and walks out.\n\nIt reads pretty plainly. \"Sit in this room until released. Ask no questions, make no sound. For every hour of service, expect $100,000 direct deposited into a Swiss account, to be accessed after services rendered. Coordinates to be given afterward.\"\n\nWhatever they're about to do, I don't want any part of it. No one pays that high, and even this is an unusually low amount of information. \n\nI pass the time the same as I did in my stints in prison, sleeping and daydreaming. I never got solitary, but I'd heard of it fucking you up mentally. Sometimes the wall would talk to you, and your only human interaction came when that cardboard tasting meal would get shoved into the slot.\n\nHours, hours, hours. Time is becoming difficult to discern. \n\nGrumble, rumble, aching. Holy shit I'm hungry.\n\nWith no warning, the door swings open. Creaking metal and another over-sized goon, and oh boy here comes another piece of paper.\n\n\"Congratulations, Mr. Blackwood. The real task begins. Outside is a duffel bag, a single Glock G26 9x19mm pistol, along with three magazines of ammunition, and twenty five thousand dollars cash. You must survive for twenty four hours. Restriction: You cannot leave city limits. Cell phone must remain on. Authorities cannot be contacted. Failure to comply will result in execution.\"\n\nFlip over the card. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I've heard of these gigs but always assumed they used immigrants or some shit. Man hunting costs a pretty penny and no one is going to miss some illegal smuggled in a fucking barrel.\n\nOn the other side is the banking password, account number and a phone number. \n\n\"This account becomes active after forty eight hours. In addition to your previous earnings, you will earn another $100,000 per hour you survive. Should you not survive, all money will be sent to your primary beneficiary.\"\n\nLeslie. Hoo-boy is she going to be confused. I think I told her I worked in finance or some shit. She worries too much, and this kind of job would break her little heart.\n\nNo more questions, only instinct. Rush up the stairs, past the goons and slam open into the outside world.\n\nSunrise. Chilly air. Breathe in, breathe out.\n\nNo time to waste, no time to think, no time to panic. Only instinct.\n\nRun.\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,757	10,154	0.119113	1,079	[ { "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 late 2040s, a supernova killed humanity so suddenly that Death simply gave up on processing them all. Centuries later, aliens are extremely weirded out when they contact an entire starfaring society entirely comprised of ghosts.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "We will all die in twenty years. All of us. The planet, the trees, the birds. Even the one you love, who smiles at you as you glance sideways at her.\n\nAll of us will explode in the light of a single dying star.\n\nBut don't fret. \n\nMost planets leave behind nothing but a black eye of hydrogen, burning itself out into oblivion. They die as quietly as they lived, and no one notices a thing.\n\nBut ours will become something special. For Death has his own plans. Every death is a domino fall toward life.\n\nAt first, when that wall of fire devours Earth, the humans will have no idea of their fate. They will only have eight minutes to stare in wonder at the column of light burning in their sky. Only a few will realize the death surging toward them at the speed of light.\n\nWhen the supernova hits, Death will spread his bony hand across the glassy surface of the planet. He will collect the souls of the plants and the animals. But not the humans.\n\nThose ghosts he will leave moored to their own lonely planet, tumbling through space.\n\nLet us die, the humans will implore him. Why can't you let us go?\n\nNo, Death will answer. My casket is full, and the living have need for you yet.\n\nSo the dead Earth will tumble like a ghost ship through the black seas of space, carrying its damned crew along with it.\n\nThe humans will curse Death and curse their fate as they stand on the blackened earth, the bone-sludge oceans. For countless millennia, they will wander through space, alone, gathering myths in their wake.\n\nAnd Death will watch. Guiding them to exactly where he needed them to be.\n\nFor Death has two powers: soul taker and life giver. Though we only pray to him when it is to curse his name. \n\nAll those deaths will serve a purpose. They always do.\n\nWe humans will not understand until we see where all our wandering through the bleak universe has ended. \n\nA howling gap in spacetime. A hole that will consume the universe from the inside out, like air rushing out of a popped balloon.\n\nDeath will appear to the humans that day, the only light gleaming in the black void. A glowing skeleton on the horizon.\n\nHe will point to the black hole that would consume all things. Even Death himself, in the end. \n\nIn the sky, the black hole will churn with the promise of chaos. \n\nYou are the only ones who can save us.\n\nWe will argue it, fiercely. The density of black holes, the terror of the unknown, the danger of trusting Death. But in the end we will always make the same choice.\n\nAll those billions of ghosts will rise off the lip of their dead planet. They will hold hands, those many billions, a chain of spirits linking back across time. \n\nAll of existence, down to a single moment. \n\nThe ghosts will plunge into the void.\n\nAll those dominos, falling down down down. The first time in our long history that humans will work together for a single common goal.\n\nIt will have to be enough to plug the gap. To delay the inevitable. For that has been Death's plan all along.\n\nSo when you see Death set fire to the sky, relax. Know that your destiny is only beginning. \n\nYou can lay back and wait for the heat to take you.\n***\n/r/nickofstatic -- for stories cowritten with the wonderful /u/nickofnight", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,956	10,150	0.070618	1,484	[ { "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 that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Initially, I thought the first 30 seconds were the worst. Holding my breath, feeling the acid build up in my blood, the anxiety overwhelming knowing that I'll run out, and soon. Then I thought the next 5 minutes were the worst. Water in, air out, the body's natural painful response of thrashing with all the life left in it. I couldn't handle the gulping, so I just clamped down on a lungful of water and held it until I could calm down.\n\nThat was an issue for the first few days. Then I got used to it and the boredom set in. I was close enough to the surface to have light, and I am sincerely grateful. I worried for a while about going insane from isolation... but I didn't expect the consequences of long-term oxygen deprivation. My thoughts grew foggy and untethered, my ability to focus and remember anything went out the window. I felt drunk and high constantly.\n\nThis wasn't an issue after a little while. It honestly probably saved my mind from fracturing. I made friends with fish and kelp. They were all named \"Geoffry\". I spent a few days just daydreaming about their lives, what they did when they swam beyond my vision. I had a brief spike of brain activity when a boat floated over me, but that was after... maybe a month or two? With my altered mind, I fell into a surprisingly comfortable haze. Days blended together, my emotions smoothed out and the fear and anxiety all but left.\n\nI meditated without issue. I had no trouble slowing my pace down until time didn't matter to me. Not being able to die changes your sense of time, absolutely, but here was different. Years blended together. Light cycles and water currents, the taste of the water and even temperature became rapid changes. \n\nI didn't see the boat over me until I felt the shock of two bodies breaching the surface. I was at first scared for their lives, flashing back to my own gruesome almost-death, but I noticed immediately that they didn't have concrete feet, they had... flippers. And metal tanks strapped to their backs. They had to be divers, but their suits looked ridiculously inadequate, right up against the skin, so thin they must be freezing, and with tiny tanks to boot.\n\nThey looked to be heading toward a spot about 20 meters to my left, and I had to quickly think about what to do. I had to tear my brain from its slumber as roughly and quickly as I could. Would I flail my arms and call them over? They would have seen that there aren't any boats nearby, and I know they would have spent a while setting up above me. No, I decided to pretend to be... well, recently dead is the best I could manage.\n\n... It actually took them longer than I cared for. Long enough for Geoffrey and his brother Geoffrey to come around a couple times. I kept an eye cracked until one of them drifted through a large clump of seaweed, then closed my eyes. Nothing happened for a while, but I didn't bother to open my eyes again. I just meditated some more, let time slip a little more. \n\nInterestingly, they didn't grab me. Instead I felt them putting something on me, some kind of vest. Over the shoulders, around the sides... and then I had to really restrain myself when they started threading something between my legs. But eventually they let go. Then it started to lift me. Oh my God it hurt. It scraped and pulled, threatening to rip my legs off, crush my ribs, and I was the happiest motherfucker alive that my junk happened to fit right in between the two leg straps. They pulled me out of the water, and laid me on my back on the boat. I was about to taste my first mouth of fresh air, but at the last moment realized that if I took in any air at all, I wouldn't be able to hold back the spluttering and coughing and upchucking.\n\nI ended up having to hold my \"breath\" for quite a while. My sense of time was forced back into a normal pace by the talk around me. One suggested that they'd have to call the coast guard, another that they should return to shore immediately, yet another that they should stay put and that I would be \"air-lifted\" out. Everything was going fine... until I pictured scaring them. At first I just had to try not to smile. Then I pictured their faces when I shouted \"BOO!\" I quickly thought about some of the grossest things I possibly could to keep from laughing right there, and I was mostly successful. At least, until one of them started checking my pockets for identification. It was coming out, one way or another. Without any warning, I didn't even have time to check if they were looking at my face or not, I shot up and fired all the water I could directly into the closest person to me, got half a breath of air in me, and just flat out screamed at them, then I couldn't stop from choking and laughing with the next breath.\n\n\"...So, uh... that's how I got here, officer. I can't die, and I have an awful sense of humor.\"\n\nThe man across the desk from me was stone-faced. The woman behind him with the suit and tie (interesting fashion sense these days) seemed to be holding back a smile.\n\n\"Would I possibly be okay to leave?\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,950	10,148	0.018997	675	[ { "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 into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I looked down in disbelief at my palm. Not because of what I was seeing, but rather what I wasn't. My shopping list that had been there a moment ago had now vanished, along with my once certain sense of reality. \n\n\nAs I continued to walk through the supermarket I felt naked, or at least half-naked. The advertisements that had covered three quarters of my vision for four quarters of my life now seemed barely noticeable.\n\n\nI spun around in shock, as the items on the shelves now had no prices floating above them and the Gordon Ramsay plugin that popped up to yell profanities at me for considering the inferior canned carrots had entirely disappeared. \n\n\nI picked up a bottle of Pepsi Chrome™ and felt physically ill as the \"deliciously silver\" liquid reflected my now filter-less face. No blushed cheeks, no long lashes, not even a hint of dog ears. \n\n\nMy knees buckled, I stumbled sideways into the pet aisle and crashed into the nearest shelf of Dog Playstations. I hadn't taken a selfie in 3 minutes now and I could see messages coming in from concerned friends.\n\n\nI stayed low and began crawling to where I imagined the checkout was, but without google maps to direct me it was entirely pointless. \n\n\nAnywhere between 10 minutes and 7 hours passed as I wriggled through that hellish labyrinth, who knew for sure. Finally a security drone whirring overhead had spotted me and began diagnosing my symptoms. \n\n\nIn a flash of red searing heat on my eye, everything turned black. As I reopened my eyes my tears of pain turned to joy, as there looking back at me, was Mr Ramsay. \n\n\n\"You'd better not be even LOOKING at this can of broccoli you daft cunt.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,008	10,146	0.1073	1,015	[ { "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 Scooby gang finds out that they have powers to turn monsters back into humans, which coincidentally looks like they're unmasking someone.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Today, on Sixty Minutes, we have an incredible piece. An interview with a policeman known for his work with the Scooby Gang, who wishes to remain anonymous.\"\n\nA black silhouette stalked into view, then the camera panned back to Lesley Stahl. \"Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, sir.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure. Ain't nothin'.\"\n\n\"So, tell me- you worked with the Scooby Gang for how long, exactly?\"\n\n\"'Bout ten years or so.\"\n\n\"And you imprisoned how many of these... Bad guys?\"\n\n\"I dunno, lady. Thousands, probably.\"\n\n\"I see. That's quite a rep. Now, would you say that, after all the cases they aided with in the police force, the Scooby Gang profited off these arrests?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. We gave 'em a few awards for excellence, they got some bounty money over the years, and of course sponsorships and such from bein' famous. Worked out pretty well for them.\"\n\n\"Sounds like it. Now, you said you had a... Secret. Something the Gang has been hiding from us.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well... We all seen the unmaskings, right, where the bad guy gets revealed. Well, that ain't the whole thing. Nobody shows the screaming. The crying. The begging. They alls shout when they get unmasked, saying they don't know where they are, where they been. They cry and cry and insist they don't remember anythin'. It's... horrible. Not a one of 'em didnt cry and beg, but nobody wanted to ask questions. Chief was too happy with numbers.\"\n\n\"I see. And what do you think that means?\"\n\n\"I- well, this ** is gonna be anonymous, right?\"\n\n\"Your privacy is safe.\"\n\n\"Aite. I think they been using some... I dunno. Black magic, or some . Making people into monsters, then changing them back and 'solving the mystery'. That explains everything, the crying, the memory loss. Good people doin' bad stuff.\"\n\n\"That's quite a claim. If so, then who would be the mastermind of this? One of the Gang? Someone else?\"\n\n\"I know who. That damn meddling mutt. He speaks sometimes, in bad English. ** is creepy. It ain't right. I'm willing to bet money that dog has some ties to the Devil, or whatever. Voodoo. Changin' people into monsters. His owner, Shaggy? That real dumb-lookin' one, the pothead? I seen him, too, sometimes, just... Staring off in the distance. Mumblin' to himself, twitchin' his fingers. Scooby was always right behind him when that happened. Got me thinkin', if Scooby can make monsters into people... maybe we don't really know who the rest of the gang is.\"\n\n\"You think the dog is behind all of this?\"\n\n\"I'm telling ya, lady. That Scooby ain't right. I'd get sick when it looked at me sometimes. Stared at me, real hard. Beady eyes. Sayin' some words. \n\nThat thing ain't a dog.\"\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,656	10,142	0.031565	1,101	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Time slows down every time you are in danger. The more serious the danger is, the more time you have to save yourself. During one terrible car accident, you had almost a minute to react. And now, time has almost completely stopped for a whole month, and you don’t know why.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Before the car crash, time slowed for silly things like a falling book or a person running towards me without looking.\n\nSo last year, when I stepped out of that car heading towards the headlights of a large truck that was slowly edging forwards, I felt invincible.\n\nSince then, I couldn't help but find ways to dance with death. I went on a one-man safari in South Africa carrying raw meat, I toured the streets of Syria during a particularly brutal firefight and I swam with sharks off the coast of South Australia. Each time danger approached I felt the world around me slow to a crawl before I escaped to safety.\n\nBut when it happened again last month, everything changed.\n\nI was eating breakfast with my younger sister when suddenly I felt as if another truck was about to plough through the kitchen. My sister was mid-way through a joke she’d learned at school when she froze.\n\nI searched for any danger nearby but there was nothing out of the ordinary. So I set out to search the town for anything that could indicate a looming threat. I checked the newspapers for odd stories that may indicate a problem, then I searched the police station, the gas storage facility, and the local mall. Nothing.\n\nThe fear started to creep in, sending shivers down my spine as I began to comprehend this danger was greater than anything I’d experienced yet, and I had know idea what it was.\n\nIt was only once I'd searched the entire town that I realised I hadn’t checked the army base. I rushed out on my bike and slid through a half open gate that a guard was closing behind a delivery truck. I eyed the guard's pistol as I squeezed past.\n\nFor the next six hours I searched every inch of that base, hoping I’d find the source of the danger. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. Soldiers were sleeping in the barracks and eating in the canteen, weapons were locked away in the armory, and tanks were lined up in neat rows undisturbed.\n\nThen, just as I was walking out, feeling hopeless, I noticed the driver of the delivery truck that I'd seen on the way in. He was wearing civilian clothes and grinning like a lunatic.\n\nI walked up to the truck and opened the driver’s door. Something didn’t seem right about this guy.\n\nI quickly ran to the back of the truck and tried to open it, but a padlock stopped me. I went to a workshop I’d been searching earlier and found boltcutters.\n\nWhen I finally opened the back of the truck, I looked straight into the eyes of a balaclava-clad man crouched in the shadows behind what appeared to be a massive bomb, holding what must have been the detonator.\n\nThe horror of the situation hit me like a freak wave and I stumbled back, hyperventilating.\n\nWhat should I do? Up until now I’d always used the time to run away from the danger.\n\nI was able to jump from that car before the truck hit me; I was able to run from the lion before it mauled me, I was able to dodge bullets that were aimed at me; and I was able to swim from the shark before it bit me.\n\nBut this time? How could I run away knowing so many people would die? I thought of my sister sitting back at the table, stuck midway through her joke. I knew the blast would reach her.\n\nBut what if I tried to stop them? What would happen? I’d never done that before. And how would I do it? I don’t know how to defuse a bomb.\n\nI looked at the balaclava-clad man and thought through my options. Then I remembered the guard carrying the pistol and I started walking towards the gate.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,338	10,141	0.047793	1,051	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " An horror story where it gets progressively clearer that the writer is the psycho, not the other person.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Sally met me on an autumn Friday night below the city lights. I'd met her years before. \n\nShe met me on a night when her breath smelled like sweet tequila, mine like the cheap beers I'd drink out in the country, overlooking acres of someone else's memories. \n\nI met her on a night when a pretty face on a city street caught my eye, became etched into my mind, didn't disappear until I learned every last thing about it.\n\nIn a flannel and workman's jeans, I didn't fit in any. But she did. Blonde hair, blue eyes that sparkled in the nightclub. A smile brighter than the strobe lights. I caught her eye, gave her a wink. Girls like her, they're romantics. They see a fellow like me and swoon.\n\nShe worked finance for a local bank. Lived in an apartment with a small yappy dog, at least until recently. I hate yappy dogs. \n\nShe loved cheesy pickup lines. Guys in flannels. Loved the five-o'clock stubble I had on my face.\n\nShe didn't need to tell me all that. I already knew. \n\nShe loved a bit of confidence in a guy, so when I strode across the room and put a hand on her hip, I knew she wouldn't mind the smell of cheap beer and dip. \n\n\"Hello,\" I said.\n\n\"Hello,\" she said back. Her voice sounded just like it did on the phone. Less confused, maybe. More alluring.\n\n\"You here alone?\"\n\n\"For a guy like you, I could be,\" she said.\n\nAnd it started like a lighter to a cigarette, the dull love that burnt on only one side. I talked, she laughed. I smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back. I'd do all the things she wanted a man to do, then wink and play it off when she asked me how I knew.\n\n\"I just know,\" I'd say. I'd watched for long enough.\n\nFor a heartbeat and a half, it looked like I'd met my match. She'd take my phone, scroll through pictures of a hundred women and make me delete every last one. Memories, gone like the smoke of one last cigarette on an evening breeze. Gone like the smoke rising from a fire born of their clothes.\n\nShe'd enter my house without knocking, ask about the collections I kept. \n\nPsycho. \n\nThat's what people called girls like her. Girls who couldn't keep from snooping. Girls whose temper burnt like dry kindling in the summer heat.\n\nAnd just as fast, that temper would disappear to embers. \n\nShe'd turn romantic. Sweet as a honey, until the sting of a bee. She'd ask questions. Romantic questions, I guess. \n\n\"Why'd you choose me when you saw me at the bar?\"\n\nAs if it hadn't all been written in the sand long before she ever met me.\n\n\"What was I wearing?\"\n\nThat skirt, the one her ex loved. Same perfume, too. She figured if he'd liked it, other guys would, too. I didn't care for it.\n\n\"Was it love at first sight?\"\n\nOh, honey. It was never love in the first place, I finally answered to nothing but the moonlight as another shovelful of dirt fell on her body.\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" } ]
1,874	10,122	0.054138	2,861	[ { "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 flying your personal plane you got hit by a freak lightning storm. You crash and when you wake you’re in s post apocalyptic future. A group of people saved you, you look around and try to read an old sign. “San Diego” you read. They’re shocked you can read these ancient symbols.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "What do you remember?\n\nSmoke. Noise. A roar. Like charging locomotives on each side, howling and thundering past your ear.\n\nRushing air, and that plummeting sensation in your stomach, initially reminding you of that first long drop on a roller coaster, but it didn't stop, didn't abate just kept going and going and going. There was fear. Panic. And something else. Despair? No. Something like loss, something like an overwhelming sense of failure. For something.\n\nOr someone.\n\nFlashing lights and twisting dials, heavy turbulence and the striking and flashing of lightning, almost blinding.\n\nPlanes don't normally go down in storms like that.\n\nBut small planes with thin wings and dirty cockpits, and smelling vaguely of tobacco and sweat, alone in the sky and through the storm. A sense of urgency, growing and growing, competing with the terror brought on by the plummet. I can remember vaguely thinking at least it's only me here. Only one person in the plane. Only one corpse to be found in the wreckage.\n\nBut beyond that? There's little there. Where am I?\n\nWho am I?\n\nThere's a man with some kind of bizarre headdress leaning over me, a thick coarse beard dangling down from a worn and lined face. A strange necklace of colored plastic holds around his neck, clinging together in some weirdly unappealing way.\n\nHis eyes are an icy grey, and he's muttering something, dabbing my forehead with some kind of wet cloth.\n\nIt smells like...something...but I'm not sure what. I can smell. And feel, that's for certain. Pain.\n\nWhen he sees my eyes open he takes a step back, and mutters to himself, grabbing a cup of some foul smelling liquid and forcing it into my hand.\n\nThere are aches and pains everywhere, bruises and sour tinges with each movement. It hurts. It hurts so badly I can't help but moan rather than speak. Not sharp, but constant, everywhere and in everything, tingling nerves and pushing and pulling muscles together. Like I've been worked over with a sledgehammer, hitting every joint and limb.\n\n\"Where am I?\"\n\nThe question is simple, but the man doesn't answer. He holds the cup. It's made of rusted iron, folded and crude.\n\nInsisting.\n\nWhat in the hell is he wearing? Rags and metal? Torn fragments and pieced together garments. Skins and cloth, like some kind of - of what? Some guy with the fashion sense and resources of a guy marooned on an island?\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nI ask again, with more force, or at least as much can be gathered. The pain wracks, and instead of a demand it comes across as a whimper.\n\nHe shakes his head.\n\nHe holds the cup.\n\nI take it.\n\nOne sip and I immediately regret it, a thick, foul tasting something with a chalky texture. Vinegar, or something else. No idea what. \n\nI try to stand, and my legs scream in refusal. There's a long stick tied to the right, and I can see angry black bruises on my hands.\n\nWhat's happening?\n\nWhere am I?\n\nAnother man enters the tent, and motions for the other to leave. The old man bends and almost scrapes, bowing and backing away. Out of respect, I guess, but this is so bizarre, so surreal its hard to believe.\n\nHe's holding something. A stick. With some metal point lashed to the top?\n\nA spear?\n\n\"Can you,\" I begin to ask, but the pain is too much, and I can only grunt and lay back onto the ground. Reeds. Or hay. Something beneath me. Soft, but the ground beneath it remains unyielding. Not a bed. Not in a real building.\n\n\"Don't speak,\" the man says. It's accented slightly, flavored with something I don't recognize.\n\nAbove me, the shack appears to be made of twisted and folded metal, weaved together and patched with mud and dirt. \n\nA sign.\n\n\"San Diego,\" I say.\n\nThe man stands tall, with shaggy unkempt hair and broad shoulders. His nose is hooked, his eyes dark as flint and a mouth in a permanent strained expression of concentration. My words cause his eyes to narrow, his forehead to furrow.\n\n\"What did you say?\"\n\n\"The sign. It says San Diego.\" Something to look at. Something else to focus on, beyond the constant and throbbing pain. Monkeys are clashing cymbals behind my skull, and the constant throbs only seem to be getting worse.\n\n\"Did you steal it?\" It's the kind of sign you see on the interstate, impatiently waiting for your exit to finally show up. But we're not on the side of the road. I don't hear any cars. I don't hear any planes. Come to think of it, there's barely any sound, besides the thin whine of wind through the hut, and voices murmuring somewhere outside.\n\nThat can't be right. I was in a plane. Going...somewhere. To do something important. But I can't remember what?\n\nHe approaches warily.\n\n\"You wear strange clothes,\" he says. \"Manufactured, the old ones would say.\"\n\n\"So do you.\" Except not manufactured. Nothing you'll pick up from amazon, anyway.\n\nSame rags. Same skins. Same hint of savagery.\n\n\"You came from the sky,\" he says. A hint of awe and mistrust, but something else, of opportunity. Like he's searching for something from me.\n\n\"A plane,\" I say.\n\n\"A legend,\" he says.\n\nHe pulls out a long green sign, a street sign. \n\n\"The markings on your fallen star had letters like this.\" He points, marking each letter one by one.\n\n\"It says Derbyshire Street,\" I say.\n\nHe looks at me like I've grown horns, or something equally preposterous.\n\n\"Please,\" I say, confused, and with a growing sense of unease.\n\n\"I need a doctor. I need to go to the hospital.\"\n\n\"No hospitals. No doctors.\"\n\nHe says it with the kind of certainty that immediately takes me aback. Not crazy. Not delusional, not tinged with frantic insanity.\n\nCertainty.\n\nHonesty.\n\nTruth.\n\nWhat happened?\n\nYou were flying somewhere. Somewhere important. To stop...something. Or someone. Which was it? Where was it?\n\nYou crashed.\n\nLightning, I think. Or was it?\n\nMaybe something else. Or someone else.\n\n\"You're not the only one,\" he says, and he comes to my side, and begins to lift me up. I want to fight, to protest, but all I can manage are groans and fight off whatever urge to scream I can.\n\nHe helps me, hobbling out.\n\nAnd out there.\n\nThere. In the world. A blue sky, trees, birds, songs and rising campfires. Other ramshackle structures, and dirty men and women and children once going about their business, turn to look at me.\n\nAll dressed in those same rags.\n\nWith various primitive implements. What's happening? What's going on?\n\nYou had to go somewhere. To stop something from happening.\n\nAnd in the distance, I see it. An office building, intertwined with vines and broken windows. Stores, homes, and eventually it comes together, like looking at puzzle pieces and their places magically coming together.\n\nThis was a city.\n\nThis was a place.\n\nAn interstate sign hangs, dead and forgotten from a withered pole.\n\nSan Diego, it says. I can see the asphalt and the broken glass, the corpses of cars on the side of the road and scorch marks on the metal. Trees and weeds and roots and grass everywhere, poking through every hole, in every place, through the shacks and the grass. In every direction, there's familiarity, but it's so alien. Why is it so hard to believe my own eyes?\n\n\"What happened?\" I ask. It's a stupid question. An obvious one.\n\n\"We need you to tell us,\" the man says. If he doesn't know, why is he asking me?\n\nAnd the fear. It returns. The roar. The scream of failing engines, and the blinding flash of lightning.\n\n\"There are others like you,\" he says. \"From long ago. Who come from the storms. Fall from the sky. Some live, most die, but they know. Can help.\"\n\nHe's talking. Speaking. Explaining. What it is, I can't focus, I can't think, there's worms and eels slithering in my brain and guts and there's just so much, so much overwhelming every sense. \n\nI'm tired. My head begins to swim, the throbbing and ache only getting worse.\n\n\"We need your help,\" the man says, as I begin to lose consciousness. Being tugged into a murky waters through the shock, through the gut wrenching certainty I had something to do with this, with this place, with the decay and the natural reclamation all around. Its me. I think. Or do I know? Why can't I tell? Why can't I remember my name?\n\nBut there are no more words from him.\n\nOnly the lightning.\n\nThe roar. \n\nThe crash.\n\nThen silence. But something else...something in the dark, hidden behind a pillar or wall or vague emptiness, my own voice. Crawling, hunting, swirling, lazy and disinterested.\n\nYou came through the storm. You came through the storm to stop the storm. And there's still time.\n\nThere's still time.*\n\n\nAdded a part 2!\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/d3domi/the_coming_storm_chapter_2/?)\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato - for stuff from me (will probably get a part 2 of this out soonish)\n\nr/redditserials - for stuff from me and others", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,957	10,118	0.009275	1,321	[ { "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 supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Hey! Stop!\" I heard the sound of multiple pairs of footsteps crashing down the alleyway. There was the sound of trashcans being thrown aside, presumably in the way of the pursuers. \n\n\"Don't let him get away!\" someone yelled, and I saw a man in a sweater and hat round the corner. Definitely a hero. A sweater and hat was always the tell of a hero in \"disguise.\" He barrelled through the bazaar, not caring about who or what he got out of his way. I smiled and rolled a cart in the way of the road. His eyes flitted from the road he was running on to the fruit stand as he searched for a quick escape. There were only a few stands left between me and him.\n\n\"Hey!!\" one of the vendors yelled as he grabbed the fabrics hanging and threw them behind him, blinding one of the men chasing him. The man tripped and fell to the ground, leaving only three men to chase the hero. Next, he grabbed a cut of meat hanging up n the next stand and hurled it behind him, slapping the man about to grab him and knocking him out cold.\n\n\"You'd better pay for that!\" the woman at the stand screamed with a fist raised at him. A car screeched right behind my stand with an anxious man at the wheel. The getaway car. \n\n\"Come on Carl! You can make it!\" he screamed, throwing open the passenger side door and waving frantically like he could pull him with the energy of his rotating arms alone. \n\nCarl had a hand in a barrel of spice and threw it behind him, blinding both the pursuer immediately behind him and the spice vendor simultaneously. Every action he made reminded me of why I started this business in the first place. They seemed to believe that since they were on relatively high ground above the men chasing them, then they could use any means necessary to get their items to the right people. It didn't matter how many casualties were caused on the way. How many pieces of meat had to be paid for. How much eye surgery would be needed for spices in the eyes, or what the cost of soiled clothes was. This bazaar might as well not have even existed in their eyes after they peeled off into the distance. But not while I was around to stop them.\n\n\"Jump Carl! Jump!\" his getaway driver screamed as the last man reached his hand out to grab him. \n\nIn the moment it took me to register that he meant to jump through the fruit, I could only raise my hands to Carl and try to stop him from doing just that. Of course, much like the other vendors, Carl ignored my pleas for him to stop and dove headfirst into a ball of iron painted to look red. I closed my eyes before he made contact with a resounding crack.\n\nI listened with my eyes closed as the getaway man screamed in rage and agony and there was only one man breathing next to my pseudo-stall. I cracked an eye open just enough to see the pursuer heaving over the dead body of Carl, whose neck had snapped once it had crashed into the stall with all the force of his heroic run. This was a lot worse than what usually happened, which was that the hero would stumble once they rammed into the \"fruits\" and then slow down enough to be stopped by whoever was chasing them. The man who was still heavily breathing looked up curiously at the items on the stand and tried to pick a red iron ball up before I could stop him.\n\nHe barely pulled it toward him before he realized it was much heavier than it looked and it dropped, landing on top of Carl's head with another, similar crack. I cringed. The man looked up to me.\n\n\"What are you selling, man?\" he asked in horror. It seemed he didn't expect to be able to stop the hero and was in a state of shock.\n\n\"You know, wares and such,\" I said in a small voice, shrugging as nonchalantly as I could while still cringing. He nodded to himself, then at Carl's corpse, then back to me. \n\n\"Keep it up, man, you did a good thing today,\" he said, pulling out a body bag and rolling Carl inside. \n\nMy fear turned to validation. I did do a good thing. I stopped a vandal from destroying this bazaar. And it was his fault that he was stopped since he tried to jump through my property like he owned it! As the man collected the nuclear launch codes from Carl's dead body, I relished in how great a person I was.\n\n__________________________________________\n\nFor more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,696	10,115	0.008593	809	[ { "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 human stranded on an alien planet. The locals are sapient, but have a lifespan of only about six months. After dozens of generations (about a decade), you’ve managed to make quite a name for yourself.L", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The Elders spoke of how the Human seemed to live eternally. Even through generations and generations of new Kyr, the Human stayed strong, his face free of wrinkles, his step springy and bubbly. The Human has watched the birth of our forefathers' forefathers, and he has led the rise of the Kyr from a fledgling village into a bustling civilization. He has introduced the Magic of Electronics, and Communications and Writing. He has heralded the golden ages of the Kyr empire, and the Kyr pay a neverending debt to him.\n\nBut as we develop our technologies and magics, we fear the Human is growing old. We did not think it was possible, for he was always the pillar of support and health the Kyr needed in its desperate times. When food ran out, or water flooded the villages, he devised tactics and methods. He knew always what to do, yet we fear that he is about to die. His body and health is far more complex than ours, and it seems that even he in his great knowledge does not know how to fix the plague that has taken hold of him.\n\nAs his hair falls out and his gait falls weak, he still leads us onwards. It has always been the dream of the Kyr to touch the stars, for that is where the Human came from. That is where the success of the Kyr came from, and that is where the Kyr will go. To what the human calls Space, and the stars.\n\nWe have built prototypes of rockets set to launch to the stars, and we are getting ever closer to our goals.\n\n\\---\n\nIt is time. The Rocket is done.\n\nEverything is in check - the fuels are working, the metal is strong and sturdy, the tip of the Rocket sharp enough to cut rock. We prepare for launch, while the Human coughs. His situation has worsened, and he lies motionless on a bed, the beat of his heart trickling down slowly. We have placed him near the site of the Rocket a safe distance away.\n\nEverything is ready. A countdown is blasted, and soon the Rocket goes. It explodes into a big gust of smoke and wind, chemical combining into force to push it up. It starts slow, and then it pushes up and up, up further, up even further through the Cloudlayer, up piercing the sky like a bullet fired into the air.\n\nIt is the last thing the Human sees before the beat of his heart finally stops.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,836	10,109	0.010243	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": " The genie snaps his fingers, and you instantly know your wish is granted. Omnipotence. That's what you had asked for, and now you have it. You know everything, and are infinitely powerful. You instantly notice something unexpected. There is another God, and he is terrified.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Planets suspended in nothingness, stars blinking in and out of existence. This truly is space. When I clench my fists together, taking a deep breath, I feel my power. It’s greater than I ever imagined.\n\t\nMy mind's racing with all the secrets of the universe, so I silence it by clapping, creating a planet. It’s absolutely massive, something to rival Jupiter, and when I flick it, the thing explodes, sending shards of rock flying everywhere. They phase through me, I don’t even feel them. I press my hands to my head, laughing. I probably look like a maniac, but doubt anyone can comprehend this form. This strength’s godly. That’s true, isn’t it? I’m a god!\n\t\nThere’s a shriek from behind me.\n\t\nI turn around, and there’s a man standing in front of Earth, striking an awkward pose, pieces of rock poking out all over him. He’s got a hunchback with a huge backpack on it, long white beard which hangs down to his toes, and teeny-tiny ears. His smile’s friendly, but he looks terrified, eyes wide.\n\t\nHoly shit, it’s God.\n\t\nHe created me, right? His power…it must be insane. I need to bow before him, need to pray and thank him.\n\t\nWhen I start walking forward, he drops onto his knees, holding his hands up. “Please!” he begs. “Stay away!”\n\t\nI stop, staring at him. Objects are spilling out of his backpack—bridges, skyscrapers, cars. Picking one up, I examine it, amazed by it’s beauty, amazed by its detail. He’s still cowering before me, but I hold my hand out.\n\t\n“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I say. “This power, it’s still new to me. Am I stronger than you?”\n\t\nGod seems tepid, and instead of shaking my hand, hastily scoops the pieces back into his backpack before standing up. He takes a few steps back, getting between me and Earth. Does he fear I’m going to…destroy it?\n\t\n“This is my pride, my joy,” he says. “I’ve spent billions of years building it, billions of years watching my planet grow! I don’t know who you are, but I won’t let you destroy it.”\n\nHe's trying to intimidate me, but his legs are shaking. He's terrified.\n\t\nReaching out, I press my palm flat against his head and he cowers again. His strength’s flowing into me, and to my surprise, I’m far stronger than him. We stare at each other for a few minutes, and the look in his eyes, the pure love of Earth, pure fear of it being destroyed—it’s enough to make me feel bad for even scaring him.\n\t\nI get it. The backpack. To him, this is almost like a model. He’s putting together one giant set and it’s called Earth. If he places a bridge, the people will build a bridge. If he places a tower, they will build a tower. I chuckle at the idea. I never thought God would be like this.\n\t\n“Why did you never build on any of the other planets?”\n\t\n“I’ve not enough power, nor time. Maybe one day I’ll finish this, and be able to move on—but for now…”\n\t\nAs I stare at him, I toss a selfless idea around. It makes me sad, but now that I’ve had it I won’t be able to get it out of my head. Looking around, I take one last gander at all the planets, at their beauty. It was worth it just to see them up close.\n\t\nHis eyes light up when I start giving him my energy, and he looks at me, confused. “What are you—”\n\t\n“I’m no god,” I mumble. “Heck, literally the first thing I did with my powers was destroy. I feel like they would fare better in your hands. Maybe now you’ll be able to build more.”\n\t\nGod chuckles, reaching out and putting a hand on my shoulder. I can feel my body fading away, as he’s teleporting me back onto Earth. He’s smiling like a proud dad, and I smile back. Omnipotence isn’t for everyone, for I would’ve grown bored with the loneliness. But I guess he isn’t lonely, is he?\n\t\n“Thank you,” he says. “I think I’ll start on Mars next, since you all seem to be so fascinated by it.”\n***\nHope this turned out okay! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,457	10,105	0.012575	627	[ { "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 rare herb that grows once a millenium is said to grant immortality. You aren't sure about that but you do know that herb is very tasty, and you don't know why everyone keeps trying to raid your garden once every thousand years", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I used to get a lot more visitors back in the day.\n\nThey never knocked, or came by the front door for that matter. I'd always find them in the garden stomping through my crops.\n\nThat just couldn't be borne. I have to make a living out here on the edge of the world, and they insisted on jeopardizing it all for the sake of their wild-goose chase. \n\nThey call it the dawnflower. They say it grows only once in a thousand years, that it has petals the color of the first morning light, burning with an inner fire. They say it burns the unwanted years off you, and from then on you will always have your entire life ahead of you.\n\nI'm not sure what they're seeing. There's certainly a pretty yellow flower that blooms about that often in my garden, but it's never looked like sunlight to me. It does have a kick to it though.\n\nAfter the first ones started coming, I made them an offer. Stay a week, replanting what they uprooted and repairing what they destroyed in their fits of pique. On the last night I'd share a pot of hearty stew with them, to show I had no hard feelings, and provide them with any resources I could to continue on their journey. \n\nThey offer extravagant apologies, toss bags of gold at my feet, pretend to agree then sneak out at the first opportunity. \n\nNo one has stayed all seven nights. And these past few thousand years, it seems no one has come this way at all.\n\nA shame, really. Those yellow flowers go delightfully well with stew.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,633	10,103	0.006464	1,470	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Humans finally broke physics by travelling faster than light in an experimental spaceship. 8 alien civilizations visited earth to issue a speeding ticket and 3 more sent strongly worded letters about safety in their school zones.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "According to the aliens, we humans blew first contact way out of proportion. They came to Earth to tell us that we needed to slow down, and we had them trending around the world in seconds.\n\nThe US Government, after over a hundred years of trying, had created an engine that folded space onto itself and leapt from one place to another, which allowed them to fly faster than the speed of light. Of course, the second we'd done that, the life we'd been searching for forever knocked on our door and handed us a speeding ticket.\n\nSee, as it turned out, humans had been incredibly unlucky when it came to finding alien species. Every attempt to reach out, listen, call, or message had been a single degree off of finding a biodiverse Galactic community. In fact, the Galaxy at large had assumed that we knew about them but didn't want to talk. What else did you think about someone seemingly intentionally ignoring you?\n\nThe first alien showing up on Earth to hand us a speeding ticket (to be paid in drinkable water, mind you) was a worldwide phenomenon. The eighth one to arrive with an infraction was just under #Earthday on Twitter, and once the Fotuan congress came to try and broadcast a PSA about intergalactic school zones to the planet, pretty much everyone on Earth considered it white noise.\n\nPlus, as it turned out, there was a whole Galactic Community, but we couldn't even join it because we didn't meet our sector's required planetary beautification initiatives. Everest was too high for our tallest mountain, and the Marianas Trench was too deep. Australia was much too brown overall because of the deserts, and what was that giant brick thing in China? In fact, it would have taken trillions of dollars to match all of the requirements for joining the Galactic Community.\n\nSo we didn't, and everything was fine.\n\nTwenty days after the PSA debacle, a Miani administrator flew down to our atmosphere to administer a request, which would turn into fine after a week.\n\n\\---\n\nGood Afternoon Earthlings\n\nThe structure you know as the 'International Space Station' is 3 inches too large and breaks the Galactic Community's 'Non-Celestial Objects in Orbit' protocols. Please remove the station by the end of the week, or turn it into a planetary body.\n\nYours,\n\nThe Planet Owners Association.\n\n\\---\n\nIt took us a while to figure out what the hell that was. After all, we'd just been told that we couldn't join the galactic community, so we surely weren't violating their rules. It turned out that, even if we weren't members, we were still expected to uphold the protocols of the Planet Owners Association, which was bullshit.\n\nIn the end, the world's governments, now combined to attempt to work with the aliens, ended up transferring the ISS to a moon-base or at least attempting to, but a week later, a Fotuan ship was in our atmosphere beaming a message to our leaders.\n\n\\---\n\nGood Evening Earthlings,\n\nWe noticed you're working on some celestial construction, but you didn't submit for a permit from the POA to work within space during prime hours of the day. Please limit your actions.\n\nAlso, friendly reminder that you are only allowed to have 21 ships enter or leave your atmosphere every day. Anything greater is uncomfortable for your sector neighbours.\n\nThanks!\n\nThe Planet Owners Association.\n\n\\---\n\nSo we limited how many ships we flew into the atmosphere each day, which drastically slowed how quickly we could build a new moonbase. Some of the former leaders complained about bowing down to such a fundamentally annoying and petty order. Still, it was easier than declaring war on the Galaxy or whatever would happen if we didn't follow the rules they set out for us.\n\nFor a year and a half, everything was going relatively well. Sure we were getting notes from the POA almost daily, but speaking to representatives and matching demands of the POA became a full-time job for thousands of humans. A new industry was created doing projects that seemed like an incredible waste of time, like digging a small trench through 3 cities in Canada.\n\nEverything was fine, of course, until the last letter.\n\n\\---\n\nGood Evening Earthlings,\n\nDuring a routine colours inspection, we noticed that your oceans, when viewed from orbit, are on average #0F123F or 'Oxford Blue'. Please apply colourant to adjust this to at least #131853 'Royal blue dark,' or lighter.\n\nThanks!\n\nThe Planet Owners Association.\n\n\\---\n\nThe vote was unanimous. Humans were done with the POA, even if it meant war.\n\nAs it turned out, there were no real consequences for breaking the rules that the POA suggested. There were a lot of passive-aggressive letters, sure, but we were free to ignore those.\n\nMost of the human race wanted to go to war anyway.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\\---\n\n&#x200B;\n\nIf you would like to stick it to the POA, signups for the war are over at /r/jacksonwrites", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,993	10,099	0.010142	2,412	[ { "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 most dangerous super villains are not locked up, instead they are turned into children and sent to a childless farmer couple in rural Kansas to be fostered and turned into productive members of society. This is the Kent Rehab Program.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The kid hops out of the bus and onto the dusty earth. She’s wearing a faded denim jacket, jeans, and a pair of red sunglasses. The heat of the sun ripples around her and I bet she‘s wondering what hell she’s been dropped off into.\n\nI push myself up from the wicker rocking chair on the porch and make to meet her, padding down the long drive. “Hi there,” I say, waving.\n\nShe nods coolly.\n\n“I’m Jonathan. You must be Kimi?”\n\nShe has uneven black hair that looks like she cut it herself.\n\n“I got homemade lemonade inside. Want me to carry your bag?”\n\nKimi looks me up and down, appraising me like a piece of furniture, like working out if an old chair is safe to sit on. “I doubt you could.”\n\n”Ah, I’m not as frail as I look.”\n\n”All the same,” she says with a sardonic smile, “I’ll carry it.”\n\nI grunt and turn and she follows me towards the house.\n\n“Were you made to live here?” she asks.\n\n”Made? No, no one made me.”\n\n”Don’t tell me you chose to. It’s like a desert.”\n\n“You get used to it,” I say. “You’ve got six months to get used to it, if I remember.”\n\n”Yeah. Six. For defending myself. Does that sound fair?”\n\nThe porch creaks under our feet. Six months doesn’t sound fair for that, but she wouldn’t have needed to defend herself if she hadn’t started the fight. Almost drowned a guy, from what I read, just because he was looking at her in a way she didn’t much like. Odd thing was, she almost drowned the guy in rain. It’d already been falling, big fat drops of it, but it stopped short of the ground and instead it began to pool around the guy’s neck, building up towards his mouth as if his head were in an invisible jar.\n\nWasn’t her first offence either.\n\n”It’s gloomy here,” she says, as we enter the hall. “You never think of tidying?”\n\n”It’s not that bad.”\n\n”There are spiderwebs as big as nets.”\n\nI sigh as I see what she’s pointing at. Truth is, since Martha died, I’ve been struggling to keep things quite how they should be.\n\nIn the kitchen, she throws her bag on the table and sits on a chair. “No air-con?”\n\n”No. There’s a shower though. Only the cold works, but that’s the important one to have working, wouldn’t you say?“\n\n“I guess.”\n\nI pour Kimi a glass of lemonade. She takes a sip; her lips curl up like paper set on fire.\n\n”Bitter?” I ask.\n\n”Uh, a little?”\n\nI grab the bag of sugar and tip a spoonful into her glass. “My wife used to make it nicer. I just do my best impression.”\n\n“Impression of the sugar?”\n\nI meant impression of Martha. Or of me, maybe, before she died. “Of how she used to make it.”\n\n“So how many others are here?” she asks, taking another sip. This time her lips remain flat which I take as a victory.\n\n”Others?”\n\n”Like me, I mean. Other villains or whatever you call us.”\n\n”I never say villains. Martha never thought anyone was good or bad, but rather we all start in the same glade and are then led down one path or another. One path trails into very deep, dark woods and it’s easy to get lost.” I pause then say, “But to answer your question: none. It’s just you and me at the moment. Should have another kid coming in a couple of months time.“\n\nShe raises her brows. ”Just... us? Well, that’s not going to be much fun. What am I meant to do all day?”\n\n”You help me with the crops. Planting, at this time of year. We turn the soil and and place new seeds down and see what they grow into.”\n\n”I got a feeling you’re not talking about seeds. At least, not with the last bit.“\n\nI shrug. She’s smart for fourteen.\n\n”How many kids have you had here in the past?”\n\n“Oh, back when my wife was alive, we had about a six per season. When she died a few years back, I stopped doing this altogether. This is the first year I’ve reopened, so I’m being a bit cautious. Seeing what I can handle. You hungry? I can make eggs.”\n\nKimi shakes her head. “You got any kids of your own?”\n\n”You ask a lot of questions.”\n\n”It helps me learn.”\n\n”We had one kid of our own. But he died young. Then we adopted a kid a few years later — a good kid, very special. When he left... Well, we got lonely, I suppose. And we wanted to help other special kids, like the one we adopted. So we opened up as a rehab center.“\n\n“Can I see outside?” she asks.\n\n”Don’t want to see your room?”\n\n”Later. I’d like to see outside. I like being out.”\n\n”Even in this heat? Suit yourself.”\n\nI lead her through a door at the back of the kitchen and we step out into the backyard, near the chicken coop. Beyond it, yellowed fields shimmer into the horizon, like some kind of dried up ocean.\n\n”I’ve not been farming the last few years,” I say. “So it’s a bit of a mess.”\n\n”You’re starting from scratch,” Kimi says.\n\nI sigh. “Guess I am.”\n\n”Why do you do this?” she asks. “Why are you still taking bad people like me? You’re old. Are you that lonely?”\n\nThe question stings. I am that lonely, and more. But that‘s not all of it. “I want to help you. All of you.”\n\n“Why though?”\n\nI run a hand over my bald, bumpy head. “The first child we had, our only biological, meant the world to us. Before that... When you’re young and have no kids, the world’s different — you’d run across quicksand for excitement, not worried your leg might get stuck.“\n\n”But?”\n\n”But when you have a kid, suddenly you find yourself worrying about death. About your own, about theirs. If you fell in quicksand, you’d hold that baby above your head as it pulled you down. You’d let yourself suffocate in it to keep them above the surface.”\n\nShe thought about that for a while. “But your child died?’\n\n”Yep. The thing about having a child is: it’s more than being willing to die to save their life — it’s being willing to live. It’s finding a way out of the quicksand. I think, with Clark — our first adopted child — and with every child since, I’ve been trying to find a way out of the quicksand. Does that make any sense?”\n\n”Sorta.”\n\nShe walks towards the nearest field and I can only watch, dazed at my own confession. Not something I’d ever said to Martha, or her to me. I wonder if she’d felt the same? I feel like she must have. The quicksand almost pulled me under after she died. That’s why I reopened.\n\nI follow Kimi out.\n\nShe sits herself down on dusty earth. “It must be hard to grow anything here. It’s barren.”\n\n”Not quite,” I reply. “But it is dry as hell.”\n\n”My parents died,” she says, not looking up at me. Instead she picks up a handful of earth and lets it run through her fingers. “I pick on kids sometimes because they still have parents. Because they don’t even appreciate that they do. Fuck them.”\n\nMartha would have liked Kimi. She’d have said it’s the same for some people who don’t have kids. I slowly lower myself down next to her. “I think it’s hard to appreciate what you’ve got, and much easier to appreciate what you don’t.”\n\nWe sit in silence after that. But not an awkward or painful silence. More of a silence we’ve both agreed to, that we nurtured together. An invisible fog of pain and acceptance.\n\nThe sky‘s blue. It’s been blue the entire time, all the way to the ends of our world.\n\nBut it‘s suddenly raining now. Only on the one spot in front of her. It lands in big dollops right in front of her crossed legs, splashing onto her jeans.\n\n”I reckon we can get something growing here,” she says.\n\nI look up again, searching for an errant cloud, but there‘s nothing. It‘s like the thick air has been squeezed or wrung out causing it to drip down.\n\n“You think?” I ask.\n\n”Guess we could try.”\n\nI grin. ”Guess we could.”\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\\\\\n\nA few more stories on /r/froggingtonspond", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,419	10,090	0.018682	773	[ { "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": " JFK shot first.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "He'd been expecting something.\n\nTrying to talk to the Russians instead of strong manning them.\n\nDeteriorating relations in East Asia.\n\nHe had plans, and they stepped on a lot of toes.\n\nThe motorcade was a large, rolling target and he expected trouble.\n\nSo he planted a body double in the limo next to Jackie - she knew, and most likely assumed he was off somewhere balls deep in some broad.\n\nShe wasn't 100% wrong, but the primary reason was to fight the threat himself.\n\nHe stands in the book depository.\n\nWaiting.\n\nWatching.\n\nA distant glint on a grassy knoll.\n\nA figure cupping a rifle.\n\nOne shot.\n\nAdjust for wind and distance.\n\nGently squeeze the trigger.\n\nClean through the neck.\n\nIn the time it took for his bullet to hit the figure, his own bullet finds the back of his body double's head.\n\nPull back the bolt, chamber a new round, fire again into the body double.\n\nPoor Jackie, that blood will get all over her clothing.\n\nHe hefts the rifle and prepares to move, entering a waiting escort. \n\nDistant shouts and screams echo upwards, into an uncaring sky.\n\nIn the vehicle, he wipes his hands to remove gunpowder residue.\n\nSeveral men wait quietly for their next orders within the escort.\n\nJohnson sits, for once, not talking about his overgrown 'Johnson'.\n\n\"I need you to lead, Johnson.\"\n\nA silent nod.\n\nWould he do a good job?\n\nProbably not. But it was part of the exchange.\n\nA new purpose for him, one that reminded him of the adventurous times in the Navy.\n\nHunt those who sought his death, and personally end their lives.\n\nHe leans backward, mixing himself a drink.\n\nHe'd need guns.\n\nHe'd need cash.\n\nMaybe a shitload of ammunition.\n\nA brief sip, a soft savor.\n\nThe mob? The CIA? The Russians? Who would want him dead?\n\nA better question would be who wouldn't want him dead.\n\nEither way, if he's traveling the world to find his supposed killers, he'd need condoms.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,175	10,085	0.086393	1,767	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... \"Good boy\", says your immortal master.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "One day, they took the Small immortal away. \n\nThey always come back, I told myself. When they leave in that blazing chariot, they always return. \n\nStill, I paced the house. Chewing on the bones of old enemies. Trying to pretend I wasn’t terrified. \n\nWhat if they don't?\n\nWorrying and wandering the halls, I went from room to room. Waiting. It was not until late that night that I heard the roar of the chariot pulling into our plaza. I was at the front door before the handle even began to turn.\n\nI jumped up to greet the Mother immortal, and licked her right on the face. I am very good at jumping, and I am sure the immortals love me for this. \n\nThe Mother immortal made the sounds she always makes when I lick her face: “Stop it, Herc! Don’t lick me!” It was her way of saying hello.\n\nShe smelled strange. I sniffed circles around her, trying to understand where she had been. She smelled clean, but there were also many foreign scents lingering around her. \n\nThe Mother immortal closed the door behind her, dropped her things off, and collapsed on the couch. But she had forgotten something. I climbed on top of her, and barked. \n\nWhere is the Small immortal?\n\n“Herc, please get off of me.” \n\nIt wasn’t the words. It was the way she said them. A low growl, like she was too tired to yell at me. Her eyes were leaking. I wanted to help, but I thought she would be angry if I tried to lick her face again. Sometimes patience is the only way.\n\nSo I settled down next to the couch. She rolled over, hiding her face in the cushions, but I could still hear her sobbing. I have very good ears, though I would trade them both if I could just help the Mother immortal stop crying.\n\nThe night passed like this. The Father immortal did not come home until the next morning. He traded places with the Mother immortal. They hugged each other for far too long, both of them making those sad, quiet sounds. I was hungry. Usually, the immortals confer upon me a most bountiful blessing of delicious food, twice a day. TWICE. But it seemed they had forgotten today. \n\nSometimes, they are forgetful and it is my duty to remind them. But today, I thought it might be better to wait.\n\nEventually, the Mother immortal left in her chariot. The Father immortal stayed in our temple, and blessed me with food (praise the immortals), and went to sleep. And the days went on like this - with the Mother and the Father trading places. They were rarely in the Temple at the same time. And if they were, it was only to have quiet, unhappy conversations. \n\nThe Small immortal was still missing. When I tried hard enough, I could smell the Small immortal’s scent. It was strongest when one of the Parent immortals came back from wherever their chariot takes them. \n\nThe Small immortal. I haven’t admitted this yet, but… she is my favorite. She is the kindest, sweetest, and gentlest of all the immortals. She teaches me to hunt, and to run as fast as the wind, and to catch things that fly through the air. \n\nThe Small immortal sees me how I wish I really was. Brave. Smart. Loyal.\n\nLong ago, when I was brought to this Temple, the Small immortal let me sleep in her Chambers. She has been with me almost every morning, and she always made sure I was blessed with food. \n\nI don’t know how long it’s been. I only wish I knew where she went. I wish I could be there with her.\n\nOne day, I got my wish. \n\nThe Father immortal and the Mother immortal graciously invited me into their chariot, which was unbearably exciting. It took me a full five minutes calm down enough to let them put on my leash. I leapt into the chariot, and did my best not to chew on the padded seats. \n\nThe chariot rolled across the world for I know not how long. We came upon a Temple so vast, it must have fit a million immortals in it. It’s towers were white and gleaming, and there were many other chariots besides sitting in the plazas. Once, a chariot with brilliant red and blue lights screamed passed us.\n\nThey walked me through the halls of this great temple. It was hard to pay attention. There were hundreds of immortals around. Some in uniforms. Some smelled like blood, but not from hunting. Some of the immortals were lying down and not moving much at all.\n\nBut I kept my focus, because these were my immortals. And I was going to follow them.\n\nThey brought me to a room. That's when I smelled it. \n\nHer scent.\n\nThe Small immortal was HERE. I ran around the room looking for her, and I may have accidentally yanked the leash from my immortal's hand.\n\nThere was someone on the bed.\n\nI jumped up. The Father and the Mother screamed at me. “Stop it! Herc!” But it was okay, because I had found my Small immortal. \n\nAll her hair was gone. Perhaps it had been shaved off like that one time they shaved my underbelly. She was sleeping, but I knew how to wake her.\n\nLICK.\n\nMore protests from the Parent immortals. But her eyes fluttered open.\n\nWhen she looked at me, she smiled. A weak smile. It was like honey in my veins. \n\nHer breath was ragged and shallow. And she coughed when she tried to speak. “Hi, Herc. Good boy, Herc. You're a good boy.”\n\nGood boy. The highest honor an immortal could bestow on a guardian like myself.\n\nBut I did not need the honor. I would give away all the honors. I would snub all the praise of this world.\n\nI only needed her hand, patting me on the head.\n\n**\n\nCheck out /r/PSHoffman for more stories. Here's a happier* one I wrote with an [undead dog.](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/i6o05v/med_school_necromancy_part_1_3/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,552	10,071	0.001294	1,866	[ { "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 turns out that all birds share a common language and even have an official political voting process. One day, you find an injured bird and rescue it. You don’t know it, but it’s the leader of all the birds. Strange things around you start happening...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"How you doing today, Boss?\" I asked the wounded sparrow in the cage. He was no bigger than the palm of my hand, yet he felt so much larger than me. He always stood with his head held high, which always made me think he was looking down on me. It's part of why I called him Boss.\n\nBoss didn't respond, just looked at me furtively, not quite putting a place on where I stood in his head. Perhaps he still thought of me as a stranger that kidnapped him. I brought him his food delicately, placing it in the cage in front of him, but making sure not to get too close to him. I didn't want to spook him.\n\nHe chirped at me. I couldn't tell whether it was from gratitude or from some other communication. He hopped down nimbly, careful not to use his injured wing and ate heartily at its meal of seeds.\n\n\"I think you'll be good to go in the next few days, Boss,\" I said while I put its food away. Boss chirped again. It sounded like he was conversing with me this time. I responded jokingly,\n\n\"Yeah, it is pretty dark in here, let's get you some natural sunlight,\" I said to him. I walked over to the curtain and put my hand out to find it was already open completely. It was odd since I checked the weather and it was supposed to be sunny all day today. I looked up at the sky and saw it was completely overcast. I frowned and checked my phone again. It still read as a sunny day.\n\n\"Hey, Boss, you ever heard of the weather being this far off...\" I trailed when I heard the sound of the storm coming outside. When the sound reached him, Boss went into a frenzy, attempting to fly around his cage and smacking every wall as fast as he could. His injured wing did little for mobility and he was half flying and half hobbling around, but fully bashing into the cage.\n\n\"Hey, hey, it's okay Boss, it's just a little storm cloud. It'll pass, I've been through a million of these. In fact, you'll be sheltered from the rain in the house,\" I said, just speaking as much as I could to calm him down. Boss looked at me and gave me an expression I'd never seen on a bird before. He looked at me like I was stupid. Like I was a complete child. Then he chirped at me as loud as he could, smashing a foot on a wall of the cage he was in.\n\n\"You.. you want out?\" I asked, feeling stupid for talking to him more seriously now.\n\nHe chirped in the affirmative.\n\n\"You--\" I stopped myself from asking more questions. There was a blazing seriousness in his eyes. As I was about to unlock the cage, something smashed into my window with a tweet! I whipped my neck around to see another sparrow with a scar across his eye, looking directly at Boss. It tweeted mockingly to Boss and raised a wing to a cloud behind him.\n\nNo... not a cloud. It was a mass of hundreds-- thousands of birds flocking toward my house as one giant collective! Some began landing on next to the scarred bird while most others watched while flying from a distance. \n\nBoss chirped angrily at the scarred sparrow, raising his good wing for emphasis. \n\n\"Uhh... What are you...? What is this?\" I asked neither of them and both of them at the same time.\n\nThe scarred bird tweeted in a strange tone.. was he laughing? Then he chirped a command and flew back menacingly. Hawks and woodpeckers crowded my window and began pecking rapidly. \n\n\"Should... should we run?\" I asked Boss.\n\nHe tweeted affirmatively.\n\nI threw the latch off and grabbed Boss who didn't even flinch. He just watched the scarred bird with menacing eyes. I ran out of the living room and into my bathroom, locking the door behind us. As soon as the lock turned, I heard the window break in the living room, the roar of thousands of birds cawing, screeching and chirping filled the room.\n\n\"What now?\" I yelled to Boss over the noise. \n\nHe chirped a few times, giving orders to me.\n\n\"I don't... what?\" I asked.\n\nHe chirped and pointed straight up to the skylight with his beak.\n\n\"You want us to climb out of there?\"\n\nHe chirped a few more times and then flapped a wing to himself, shaking his head at me. I squinted my eyes, a little worried that I thought I understood what he meant by that.\n\n\"You want me to throw you up at the coun--\"\n\nHundreds of birds were scraping against the door now, it rattled in anticipation of its being torn open, leaving us at the birds' mercy. A bird shoved its way under my bathroom door. It was the scarred one again. It chortled mockingly, taking short hops with each of its tweets. It tweeted slowly, turning its head with glee and flapping its wings. Then it looked at Boss dead on and chirped with death in its tweet.\n\n\"Is he monologuing!?\" I asked with disbelief.\n\nBoss chirped angrily, but affirmatively.\n\n\"So, then, he's the bad guy-- er.. bird?\"\n\nBoth birds tweeted affirmatively, albeit one more condescending than the other.\n\n\"Then, why don't I...\" I threw the bathroom's trash bin over the small bird. It bashed its head against it a few times, then started tweeting desperately. I sympathized. There was some nasty stuff in there. Boss tweeted loudly; louder than I'd ever heard him tweet before and the commotion outside came to a halt. The scarred bird tweeted a few more times and I heard the entirety of the army outside flying out of my house. I sat there in disbelief as I heard all the caws, screeches, and chirps take flight away as quickly as they entered.\n\nAfter a few more moments, Boss pecked at my hand to be put down. He went to the bin to talk to the other bird while I opened the door. The entire apartment was absolutely covered in feathers and bird poop. I sighed and slunked out of the bathroom, unable to comprehend anything that just happened. I turned back to Boss.\n\n\"You're paying for this, right?\" I asked.\n\nHe chirped affirmatively.\n\n___________________________________________________\n\nFor more tales of a feather, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!\n\nEdit: [Part 2 is in](https://www.reddit.com/r/Nazer_The_Lazer/comments/dhmvyk/boss_bird_part_2/?)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,543	10,062	0.011415	1,005	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " As you arrive in Heaven, you are confident you have lived your best life. You proudly exclaim you are ready to have your soul judged. An angel walks by with diced carrots and chicken stock under his arm and says, “Did you say ‘soul’? Please don’t tell me Earth still has the copy with typos...”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was all little too on the nose. The long hair, white linen and the bright overhead lights brought an overwhelming sense of deja vu that I had seen this place before on television. \n\n“I’m sorry? I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean.” I sputtered before sheepishly adding an “Oh heavenly one.”\n\nHe rolled his eyes and my cheeks heated. \n\nShould I be less formal? Weren’t angels technically soldiers of heaven? Should I salute? \n\n“Oh dear, you definitely haven’t been updated yet.” \n\nWith a snap of his fingers we were now in a stainless steel kitchen. An industrial size fridge was behind him and in between us now stood a prep table.\n\n“The rules are simple, and you should at least recognize the ingredients.” \n\nHe nodded and a fish, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine appeared on the table between us. \n\n“You have an hour to complete your sole dish. Peter will be by to judge when complete.”\n\n“No, you can’t. You don’t understand—“\n\n“Good luck, son of Adam.”\n\nAnd with that, I was alone. \n\n“Jes—“ I swallowed my curse in case they could still hear. \n\nMy fingers curved around the slender neck of the bottle pulling the cork of with an echoing pop. I lifted the cork to my nose and smelled the buttery oak of a white white. I guess it wasn’t all on the nose. It would have been red. \n\nOver in the fridge there was a wide variety of ingredients, some unlike anything I had never seen before. \n\n“I should have been a Catholic like my grandmother,” I grumbled. “If this was the test everyone faced, she would have been on her way to heaven before he even said typo.”\n\nInstead, I had chosen to be a Seventh-day Adventist like my father and had never even touched fish outside of an aquarium kid-zone. The wine bottle met my lips and I swallowed. The wine was alright. Probably better cooking wine than for tasting. But then again, I had always liked boxed wine. I looked at the bottle, wondering which He preferred, but it was blank white. \n\nI walked over to the gas stove with shaky knees and lit and took a long deep look at the fire. \n\nSure, this wasn’t my forte, but I had watched Food Network. I wasn’t necessarily going there. For a moment, a tendril of flame licked up higher than the rest and I let out a little gasp before pulling a pan over the burner. No. I wouldn’t. \n\nI spotted some oil. Olive, I guessed from the look of it. In that went, and finally I turned back to the steel table where the unimpressive looking brown fish laid. My nose scrunched up at the sight of the thing. Was this what all those stupid bumper stickers were about?\n\n“Sorry buddy,” I said looking deep into the fish’s glassy eye, “but to keep me out of the fire, we got to get you into the frying pan.”\n\nAnd with a crackle of oil, I began my last supper.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,607	10,057	0.015748	946	[ { "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": " No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The Salvation Army had been good to him. The corduroy cargo shorts he'd picked up were just the right amount of stained. His knee high socks complimented the blown out Birkenstocks to perfection. The long sleeve pink t-shirt read 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor!' -- no doubt a castoff souvenir from a spring break some college girl was glad she couldn't remember.\n\nTruth be told, the first stage of this experiment wasn't the scary part. What was the worst that could happen? Security might give him a confused look and send him home. It wouldn't even bruise his ego. His relief that the entire world hadn't gone mad would more than outweigh the shame.\n\nStill, he caught himself holding his breath as he pulled up to the gates. Trained dogs immediately began sniffing the underside of his new Cadillac -- the dealer who let him borrow it for the day had cheerfully quipped, \"You're the boss!\" as he handed over the keys.\n\nIf this worked, that poor dealer would have a hell of a time getting his car back.\n\nTwo knocks on the window. He rolled down the tinted glass and immediately saw it on the guard's face, that same look that had been seizing people's faces for years. Instant recognition followed by a cordial formality, with not a small dose of respect thrown in for good measure.\n\n\"Good morning sir,\" said the heavily armed woman. \"Haven't seen you in a while.\"\n\n\"Haven't seen me ever, you mean.\"\n\nShe looked confused, then forced a small laugh. \"Good one sir. Just need to scan your ID.\"\n\nHe'd been expecting this, but as always had nothing prepared. \"Afraid I left it at home today.\"\n\nThe fit young woman took a moment to process this. It certainly struck her as strange, that much was clear. Some part of her brain was obviously aware that this was wrong, all wrong. But whatever gift -- or curse -- had been bestowed upon this man outweighed her rationality.\n\n\"Happens to the best of us,\" she said with a smile. \"Just remember next time.\"\n\nShe signaled, and the reinforced steel gates swung open. He couldn't believe it. He even received a few salutes as he drove past the checkpoint.\n\nNow his heart was beating properly fast. Now it was real. Now if he was caught, there would be serious consequences.\n\nBut as he drove the Cadillac right up to the launch pad and looked up at the shuttle, somehow he already knew that his plan was going to work. Today he was going to space -- and in a novelty pink tequila shirt, no less.\n\n\\--------------------\n\n53/365\n\none story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)\n\n\\---------------------", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,228	10,056	0.008127	876	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " All work centers are mandated to install \" Efficiency Microchips\" into their employees. The microchip makes the host blackout during their shift and come back into control after work is over, with no recollection of their day. Your microchip just malfunctioned.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"...what?\n\nWhat the fuck?\n\nWhat the fuck?!\"\n\nThe searing pain in the back of Frank's head ended as quickly as it began, disorienting hin, but not enough to remove comprehension of what he was looking at.\n\nA woman, dead on the floor. A knife in her neck, blood all over the place, and all over the one who put the knife there. All over Frank.\n\nHe releases the knife, leaving it embedded in this poor woman, and looks at his blood soaked hands, his breathing rattling. He can hear people shouting around him from the dark, but he doesn't take in what they're saying. Instinctively, Frank pulls the knife from the corpse, and spins just in time to see someone approaching him, hand outstretched.\n\n\"Stay back, you stay the fuck away from me!\" Frank yells, slashing the knife in his direction and backing away slowly, making way for a door he saw in the corner of his eye. \n\nSuddenly, an arm turns Frank around, putting him face to face with a big man in a white shirt. \"Now Frank, just calm down!\"\n\nSurvival instinct in his confusing and unknown situation, Frank slashes the man with the knife and makes a run for the door. He doesn't get far however, before he is tackled and restrained by another guard, and yet another draws a stun gun on him, aiming and yelling.\n\nIn the confusion, Frank managed to stick the knife deep in the guards leg, before getting shocked by the guards stun gun, and falling to the floor, unconscious. \n\n \n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\nStacy paced the living room, wondering aloud \"where is Frank? He should be home by now.\"\n\nShe sits, thinking that he will be fine, probably just caught in traffic or something.\nShe switches on the TV in an attempt to relax.\n\n...In other news, professional actor Frank Jakeman was arrested today for attacking two security guards on set. Police have stated that Frank's work chip had malfunctioned while he was in the middle of a shoot playing a minor character murdering a woman. His chip malfunctioned at a time where he was standing over the prop of a murdered woman. The confusion from the chip caused him to believe he had just committed the murder, and in an attempt to escape from the set, he used the knife to injure two more guards before being subdued.\n\nMore details on this no doubt interesting case as it develops.\n\nEDIT: Thanks everyone, you are too kind to my quick story! \n\nDue to someone asking, and me wanting to develop the world a little further, there may be a short follow up coming today! :)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,731	10,054	0.002773	1,289	[ { "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": "God comes up with a new rule to deter innocent human sacrifices in his name. From now on, there should be TWO human sacrifices; the first will be chosen by the town as usual, the second will be chosen by the first tribute, without any objections.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Royce sat slumped in the center chair of the town hall chamber. He combed his long thick hair to the side using his fingers. Flashing a discreet smile to the women and men he found cute that attended the sacrificial announcement in support of him. \n\nThe townsfolk officials all filed in from the side and sat perched on a raised podium at the very back of the chamber. Staring off into space with their long, soulless faces. All the way to the right sat the vengeance angel, Pok, awaiting the trial. She sat, stone faced, perfect posture, and wings tucked in, all while glowing with a silver outline.\n\n\"Thank you all for attending this evening,\" Mr. Hartwell grinned. \"It's so good to see such a large turnout for the first ever community sacrifice!\"\n\nMost of the audience applaused, but all of the younger people frowned.\n\n\"Can we cut to the chase?\" Royce said, drawing gasps from the older crowd members and a grimace from Mr. Hartwell.\n\n\"What else should I have expected from the town heathen! Blatant disrespect to me and the process!\" Mr. Hartwell's veins protruded from his forehead.\n\n\"I just have something exciting to reveal, that's all. I mean, it's no surprise that I have been selected as the town sacrifice. With my free spirit and all,\" Royce bounced his eyebrows, exchanging quick glances at his multiple previous of lovers.\n\n\"Yes, but we are supposed to go over your behavior and explain to you all the ways you have ruined our town. That way it doesn't seem like it was just a one person vote. We have a democracy here! There are witnesses here to attest to your vile actions and all of them agree that you will be sacrificed.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get that. I understand everyone wants me to dead, and to be perfectly honest, I'm okay with that, but, what about my pick for the sacrifice? That's what I really want to get to,\" Royce grinned as he stood up from the wooden chair.\n\n\"Sit back down! I will tell you when you need to stand!\" Mr. Hartwell's face turned red. \"Besides! What in the blazes are you talking about?\"\n\n\"I get to pick who is sacrificed as well. It's a two for one deal! Didn't you understand that when you requested help from Pok?\" Royce giggled.\n\nMr. Hartwell glared with raging fire in his beady eyes. \"You lie.\" \n\n\"Royce is correct,\" Pok said in her ethereal voice.\n\n\"Wait, so there is a counter sacrifice? He gets to pick who dies? Surely it's-uh-well- there's a committee practice! Doesn't this get taken to a panel with the rest of the community members? How is that fair that he gets to pick it all!\"\n\n\"You hired a vengeance angel,\" Pok sighed. \"Your rules for democracy are thrown out the window. These are the guidelines of the supernatural law. The community picks the sacrifice, the sacrifice-ee gets to pick whoever they want to get sacrificed with them. No exceptions, no committees, no votes. Royce has all the power.\"\n\nThe crowd erupted with gasps and rumblings. Royce was smiling ear to ear.\n\nMr. Hartwell started banging the gavel on the podium, each thundering clap silenced the audience further. \"That's it! That's it! Those were not the terms that I agreed to! This isn't fair, this isn't what I--\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" Royce waved his hand. \"I'm not going to select you to die. I'm just going to select your son to die.\"\n\nMr. Hartwell dropped his gavel and his eyes twitched. His mouth released a gurgle of rage and sputtering saliva. \"No,\" he growled.\n\n\"You don't like that? That's okay, I'm willing to bargain,\" Royce's dimples pronounced themselves as his smile tightened.\n\nI added a [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/hbknrq/wpgod_comes_up_with_a_new_rule_to_deter_innocent) since I had fun with Royce's dynamic with Mr. Hartwell! :)\n\nr/randallcooper", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,554	10,050	0.109836	872	[ { "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": " Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Hello, I'm Marie, I'll be your nurse,\" she said pulling up the rolling stool and sitting down. \"So, why are you here today?\"\n\n\"I've been feeling tired, and dizzy a lot,\" I said.\n\n\"Could you roll back your sleeve for me?\" Marie asked. She was pale, really pale, but it was more like marble than skin. I rolled back my sleeve, and she rubbed my wrist with some kind of wet wipe. Pulling my wrist up to her nose, she took a deep breath. \"Hmm,\" she said, reached over and checked off a box on a check list.\n\n\"Hmm?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"let me check something else. Now don't worry, I'm going to get very close to your neck. It's part of the procedure.\"\n\nAs she got close to my face my heart started to beat fast, like some ancient instinct was kicking in. \"I bet some people take this the wrong way,\" I said. She took a sharp deep breath.\n\n\"Sometimes, that's why I've learned to announce what I'm doing,\" she said, and sat back on her rolling stool.\n\n\"So,\" I said, trying to get my heart to slow down, \"what were you sniffing for?\"\n\n\"The vampire olfactory senses are much more attuned than a humans,\" she said. \"I was checking for tell-tale signs of diseases or infections.\"\n\n\"Did you find anything?\" I asked.\n\nFrom the drawer she pulled out a small device, about the size of a computer mouse. She held it to my thumb. \"You're going to feel a pinch.\" And I did. A small drop of blood appeared on my thumb, like a diabetes test. Marie used a small dropper to suck it up. She then dropped it onto her tongue. I fought the urge to gag. She clicked her tongue a couple times, then grimaced and check off a few more boxes. These creatures used to hunt us, kill us, eat us. Now it's sitting here tasting my blood. This must be like a wine tasting to it. I shuttered.\n\n\"Mr. Moore,\" it said, \"I'm sorry to tell you, but I've found traces of pancreatic cancer. It seems to be in the early stages, so we should be able to give you chemo. Or we could seek an experimental treatment involving werewolf blood transfusion.\"\n\nI stared at it, it's face passive.\n\n\"Um,\" I stammered, \"can I speak to my doctor?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" it said standing up, \"your doctor can confirm my results with any test you wish. Have a good day Mr. Moore.\" ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
990	10,048	0.014031	1,985	[ { "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 species grows with the size of its hoard.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"It's not my fault! I know you love guarding my wallet, and while you were small enough to ride my shoulder it wasn't a problem. I loved having you there too! Now? If you sat on my shoulder, you'd crush me in a split second!\" My anguish is real. Percy has been my best friend. My confidant. The one being I could always trust to tell me the truth.\n\n\"You know better. In a way, this is your fault. You choose to play the lottery, knowing that my size is tied to my fortune. Since we first bound to each other, my fortune and yours are the same. Still, I do not begrudge you the lottery. The way your face lit up when the selection was broadcast. How you watched each number appears. It was draconic in its intensity. You have been far more than an owner, as if any human could own a dragon. You are the first human to treat me as a person. Now, when you most need my protection, I cannot be there with you. Guarding your wallet was something I could use as an excuse to stay with you. It was cute. It was acceptable. People assumed I was young, confusing your wallet with your fortune.\" I may have said too much in my pain. He was not aware of our age difference until now.\n\n\"Percy? I never understood. I accepted that you were young too, that guarding my wallet was a youthful mistake. Percy? How old are you?\" True curiosity. I may be the cat today, but now I must know.\n\n\"I don't know how to answer your question. I was, before the oldest human alive. I was, before your country was created. I was, before the being you call The Son of God was born. Before that? It disappears in a fog. Draconic memories are long, but not infinite. Dragons have chosen to hoard as much for the size benefit as for the chance to make their oldest memories last a little bit longer. Humans have yet to invent a technology to store draconic memories more than a fraction of the time that we remember things. Whatever the media, they are words on paper. Dry dusty things that blow away in the winds of time. Draconic memories are rich and full of life! That is the true draconic hoard. Memories. Some of us, have chosen to gift our metalic fortunes to humanity, Hoping that you will eventually develop a method to store draconic memories in all their glory. If I was one such, I no longer remember.\"\n\n\"I ... I'm ... I'm in awe. My best friend is a sage beyond the best understanding of humanity. A being of such magnificence that I am stunned that you would choose to bond with any of us. Percy? If I understand the word at all, I love you. More than any ten fortunes. ... Percy, I think I have an idea, let's get a decent lawyer to come talk with us. I like having money, but this is absurd!\"\n\nSo dryly that the Saharan desert is an oasis. \"My experience with lawyers is that they do not make house calls. Even to parks as large and well designed as this one. One which I noticed has a strict reputation for preventing squatting. I wonder why they have permitted us to remain?\"\n\n\"Percy, we are, at present, holders of one of the largest fortunes in the entire eastern seaboard. I suspect we could purchase this park several times over. For fortunes the size of ours, rules can be bent. It might even have something to do with an ancient huge red dragon guarding its hoard. For that sort of money, lawyers will make park calls.\"\n\nWe had to do a great deal of persuasion. Apparently, lawyers are even more circumspect when large dragons are involved. We just added a few more zeros to the persuasion. We didn't need just any lawyer, we needed a very particular kind of lawyer, with a reputation for creative solutions to unique problems. Finding one wasn't as hard as i had expected. Percy, who still refused to tell me his former names, has some unusual contacts.\n\nWhen the lawyer showed up, we got to some serious discussions over what we could, and could not, do with our money. The lawyer was initially aghast at my idea. I think large sums of money have an unusual effect on his mind. He was insistent on having us walk around the park while Percy remained at our present location.\n\nHaving assured himself that I was not being coerced, he then became concerned over my sanity. I talked about the value of friendship. For someone reputedly intelligent, it took him a very long time to understand. By the end, he was wistfully looking at Percy. Sorry mister, get your own best friend, Percy is my hoard.\n\nThe paperwork is finally done. It's taken several days to do it. A good thing it's done, the park rangers are getting antsy. The visitorship is way down.\n\n\"My friend, what you propose to do with our hoard is incredibly generous and loving, but I do not know if it will work! If it doesn't, we'll be in the same state as now, but without the funds to do anything else about it.\"\n\n\"Percy, you are my fortune. This is just money.\" Did the lawyer just twitch? \"If it works, it's a way out for every bonding. If it doesn't, we'll still have our real fortune.\"\n\n\"Ahem. I feel it is my duty to point out one last time, that this action is irrevocable. Once the papers are signed, there is no going back. We do have a need for witnesses.\"\n\n\"All covered! The rangers and their families will be here shortly. I assume that they will do?\"\n\n\"Quite.\"\n\n...\n\n\"Last chance?\"\n\nI sign the last page. For a moment, we're holding our breath. Everyone is watching Percy.\n\n\"Oh! That is a very strange feeling?\" Before our eyes, larger than mansion sized Percy, drops back to shoulder size Percy.\n\n\"It worked! Percy! It worked!\"\n\n\"So I feel. It's a bit disconcerting, but also most welcome.\"\n\n\"I am delighted that this venture worked, and not just for the fees my firm is about to make. If I understand correctly, there may be a huge influx of contributions?\"\n\n\"Entirely possible. Though not guaranteed.\"\n\n\"Very well, you now have a guaranteed income equal to your prior job's remuneration, plus a small amount. Any new clients must yield their entire fortune, in exchange for the same income from the fund. Income is tied to the inflation rate, not to the size of the fund. I was able to guarantee the name of the fund.\"\n\nSo, the Dragon Friendship Fund is up and running. If you have a dragon friend that you'd like to be able to take with you anywhere, come talk to the agents for the fund. Dewy, Cheatem, and Howe, Esq. You won't be rich anymore, but your friend will be with you anywhere, and you won't have to work for a living wage. Health benefits are included for the human partners. No one has found a Draconic doctor yet.\n\n((finis))\n\nEdit: Spelling", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,564	10,046	0.013824	1,223	[ { "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 turns out Earth is a really big lobby for a battle-royale and everyone is just waiting for enough players to start", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Battle Royale had gone too far.\n\nIt was subtle at first; a book about kids slaughtering each other in a dystopian version of Japan.\n\nThen they made a movie. About the book. With Japanese teenagers murdering each other. And if their media has taught me anything, it's that's to be expected from Japanese teens. I was more surprised by the lack of giant pink hair and nosebleeds and all that other Japanese shit.\n\nNext a woman came up with the totally original concept of a dystopian government forcing children to murder each other, and called it The Hunger Games. Wrote some books with some average teen girl saving the whole fucking world because that's who we should have making drastic, socio-political decisions in our lives. Teenagers. But don't worry, she's got men fighting over the protagonist in a love triangle but she isn't vain or anything like that. \n\nShe made some movies too. \n\nThen our games became Battle Royale. Sure, we enjoyed it. Drop onto an island out of a plane or a bus, and duke it out on a poorly rendered map that either gets too many updates or not enough. \n\nWe loved it.\n\nBut the developers were doing their best, trying to warn us of what was to come.\n\nWe should have listened.\n\nNext it was everywhere. You want a job? Battle Royale. You want a family? Battle Royale. You want Coke instead of Pepsi? Battle Royale. Eventually there was nothing but Battle Royale, the air full of screaming prepubescent children screaming how many victories they'd claimed on the schoolyard.\n\nIt never stopped.\n\nIt only kept going.\n\nIt starts small. One car per home; Battle Royale for who gets to go to work.\n\nThen one bed in a house. Battle Royale for who gets to sleep in comfort.\n\nIt kept going and going, consuming every activity. \n\nI killed my wife fighting for dinner; it had become tradition for there to be only one option in each home, with the family members struggling for victory. In my defense she tried to use a sniper rifle when we lived in a one bedroom apartment. It took one pump from a shotgun to lay her the fuck out, but the spread was a little too wild and it hit the food too. So I just microwaved some leftovers. No real harm done.\n\nAnd still, it kept going.\n\nWithout warning, the sky became replaced with a massive number, a little over eight billion. Millions of us found ourselves strapped into airplanes, flying over swaths of inhospitable terrain, apparently stuffed to the brim with firearms and ammunition.\n\nNever mind the massive logistics involved in coordinating, planning, supplying and staffing all the shit required to make this happen. Just Battle Royale, the entire world. Because why the fuck not. It had already claimed everything else by then.\n\nWe all had to kill each other, assuming we knew how to handle weapons. More likely we'd end up having to use them as clubs after awhile.\n\nThere would be only one measure of success; to be the only survivor. Because that's a reasonable expectation for everyone in the world, I mean why wouldn't we all kill each other. Have you met people? They fucking blow man.\n\nThe elements will kill most of us, I'm sure of it.\n\nIt's horrible. But in a good way.\n\nMy main problem with it is I'll have to shit outside, and that's a little too primitive for me. When I feel like a savage, I go to a Waffle House. \n\nAnyway if anyone can find me, we should team up.\n\nUnless it comes down to just the two of us.\n\nAnd if you win, you'll be all alone, probably grievously wounded, close to starving, and will die soon afterwards anyway.\n\nDo you know how to treat infected wounds? I sure fucking don't. \n\nBecause if I win, you bet your ass I'm going to savor that sweet, sweet chicken dinner.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato Not even my WPs are safe from battle royale nowadays", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,960	10,045	0.018884	1,701	[ { "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": " With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "[I'm aware that this prompt has been done multiple times, but I only started posting recently and so I'll try to take a stab at it. Hopefully this will be a slightly different flavor.]\n\nHe doesn't look like much. That was the first thought in Volair's mind as the human representative, Adam, entered the council room. Most sentient life-forms were bipedal and vaguely humanoid, but the man stood a full three feet shorter than him, boasting none of the survival tools that evolution had bestowed upon the Avelium. \n\n\"You're early,\" Adam observed, bowing in the customary greeting of inter-species diplomats. The brief smile revealed no fangs, no poison...if they were to get into a dispute, nothing would save the small earthling from Volair's wicked claws. And that was empowering. \n\n\"I believe you have a saying on your planet,\" the Avel-born said as they both took seats on opposite sides of the long obsidian table. \"Something about the early bird getting the worm?\" \n\nVolair watched the translators fastened to the human's visor churn its way through his gruff speech. Earthlings possessed no telepathic abilities either, not like the tentacled Kinu who could grasp the essence of thoughts directly. This was the dominant species of their planet? \n\n\"I appreciate that,\" Adam said. \"Let's get down to business, shall we? Our United Nations council has discovered that your civilization has been encroaching on intergalactic law in several colonies.\" \n\n\"Lies and slander,\" Volair sneered. \"Every bit of business that we do is sanctioned and legal.\" Besides, these humans would never retaliate even if that wasn't true, so what was he afraid of? \n\nAdam's posture didn't waver in the slightest. \"Treaties exist for a reason. I'm here on behalf of humanity to request that you order a full evacuation of any Avelium government superstructures in the Sigma-Nine sector. Otherwise, we'll do it for you.\"\n\nVolair was surprised. Although Earth was a relatively new addition to the Galactic Conglomerate, no human diplomat had ever declared war, nor had they ever engaged in any sort of combat. Where was the leverage behind this stark declaration? \"Is that a threat?\" \n\nThe diplomat blinked. \"Of course it's a threat. It's not simply a warning. Not all human representatives are the same, General Volair, and while some of my colleagues are soft-spoken, I assure you that it would be wise not to mistake kindness for weakness.\" \n\nIt was a bluff. It had to be. Volair simply yawned, flexing his claws in a casual display of strength - the alloy generated by his body was stronger than steel and he knew it could even cleave through human space ships. \"You know, I've never seen any humans fight. It would be quite interesting, especially as we are in the advantageous position with troops seeded throughout your colonies.\" \n\n\"I suppose we'll just go our separate ways, then,\" Adam said. \"And allow history to be the judge, jury, and executioner.\" \n\nMonths later, Volair had all but forgotten about the small human. The Avelium diplomat joked about it a few times with his colleagues over lunch and brought it up with his bonded mate while the kids were getting ready for school. \n\nThen it happened. An Avelium native took the life of a human in a zone where Volair's people had no right to be. An ultimatum was given, and ignored. And then he witnessed nightmares come to life. \n\nTechnology and weapons whose sole purpose was to lay waste at the planetary level bombarded Avelium positions without remorse. Allies took sides, bisecting and trisecting the Galactic Conglomerate, and the stars weeped for the lost lives. \n\nIt wasn't just Volair's species. It was all sympathetic allies as well. The darkness of space lit up with not only explosions, but far more horrific tragedies over the course of mere weeks. Somehow humanity managed to smuggle nanoviruses onto supply ships that caused global pandemics targeting Avelium colonies. They avoided any sort of hand-to-hand or space-based combat, simply destroying anything that came too close with enough firepower to make a neutron star jealous. \n\nAnd then Volair jerked back into reality. He was back in the negotiation room. \n\n\"You've seen the future,\" Adam said, reclining in the council room chair. \"What do you think?\" \n\nThe Avelium native realized that he was sweating. \"What did you do to me?\" \n\nThe human smiled. \"Airborne nanovirus. Think of it as a holographic rendition, a promise for the future if you fight us. You may doubt our physical prowess and our propensity for peace, but there's a reason we survived on Earth and there's a reason we don't want to fight. If you doubt our resolve, just know this.\" \n\nThe human leaned forward across the table, and Volair subconsciously leaned away. \n\n\"Those things I showed you? Those were just examples of things we've done to ourselves. What do you think we'd be willing to do to another species?\" \n\nVolair sat there, long after Adam left, trying to shake the memories of his civilization crumbling under disease and ash. So that's why they want to avoid war. To avoid becoming the demons they themselves despise. \n\nNow he knew how Mother Nature had allowed such puny beings to reach beyond the skies. \n\n--- \n\nEdit: thanks to the kind strangers who generously gave awards, it's truly heartwarming and encouraging. Thanks also to everyone who commented, I can't respond to everything as I need to sleep but I have read every single one and I appreciate all your kind words and feedback greatly~ see you all tomorrow :)\n\n\nThanks for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated~ Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,187	10,039	0.303441	1,063	[ { "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 tried to summon the devil to grant your wish, but instead of summoning him you got Cer, Ber, and Rus, 3 adorable puppies with them is a note from the Devil, \"If you properly take care of them, I might just grant your wish.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The pentagram was drawn, the candles lit, and I spoke the summoning chant without hesitation. Months of preparation had led up to this moment, where I would ask Satan to grant my wish, to become one of the richest men on earth. At the height of the ritual, smoke billowed into the centre of the circle, and the room shook, a thunderous crack sounding. I waited for the smoke to clear to gaze upon the devil himself.\n\nInstead, before it cleared, I heard 3 barks. Incredulous, I stood there, as the smoke cleared to reveal 3 pure black Doberman puppies. They each had a leather collar on, with a dangling tag. Before them was a pure white scroll, sealed with a deep red wax seal.\n\nI could tell instantly that this wasn't a trick. The study I had taken of the ritual had granted me the ability to know of any fiendish presence near me. I could feel a faint aura around the puppies, but nothing on the scale of the Lord of Hell. The central puppy gently picked up the scroll, and walked to me, laying it before me. I reached out to take it, and cracked the seal, revealing a letter. It read:\n\n>Dear Michael James Bucanen,\n\n>I am not accustomed to being summoned out of the blue. Whilst I appreciate your enthusiasm, I am not some lesser demon, to be called upon willy-nilly. I am not enticed either, by your offering of your soul. I do not take souls in exchange for petty presents.\n\n>However, I shall give you a chance to earn your wish. The 3 puppies before you are young Hellhounds. Each will spend time on the mortal world, before they take full possession on the hell flame. You are to care for them during this time. If you care for them properly, I will be more inclined to spend some time sorting out your issue.\n\n>If you refuse to care for them, harm them, or allow others to harm them, this will end, and you will meet me. But it will not end well for you.\n\n>Regards\n\n>Lucifer Morningstar \n\nI swallowed, and looked at the hellhounds. They each looked back, heads cocked slightly. I could see intelligence in their eyes, behind which hid the energy of a puppy. I beckoned them forth, and they eagerly ran up. I scratched their heads in turn, whilst looking at their collars.\n\nTheir names were Cer, Ber and Rus. I groaned slightly at that. It appeared the devil had a sense of humor. The looked at ne expectantly, as if they were waiting for something. I realised they wanted me to say something.\n\n\"I accept?\"\n\nThey all barked at that, and it was if a switch had been thrown. They jumped at me, tails wagging, all licking at me. I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of how the night had gone. Instead of walking out a billionaire, I would be walking out with 3 small, energetic balls of fluff.\n\nI think I might have gotten the better deal out of this.\n\n[Part 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ilwqzo/wp_you_tried_to_summon_the_devil_to_grant_your/g3xcll9?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,317	10,034	0.013896	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": " You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"You're... You're Superguy!\" A teenage girl in the parking lot said, her friends giggled.\n\nJason gave them an embarrassed wave and kept walking. \"I'm just going out to get some groceries\" he mumbled.\n\nAlmost to the grocery store door, Jason sighed when he saw a police officer running up to him.\n\n\"Superguy, I'm glad I found you in time.\" the officer said.\n\nJason half heartedly reached out for the door, knowing that he would not get a chance to enter. Again.\n\"I really just want to get some groceries\" he said, already resigned to the inevitable response.\n\n\"There's no time for that,\" the officer said (Jason mouthed the words as the officer said them).\n\"A villian has taken over the bank on Fifth Street. She has hostages. We need your help.\"\n\n\"The police need my help? But I'm just a guy\" Jason said, going through the motions. He still had no idea why people thought he was a superhero.\n\n\"Don't be modest, sir.\" The officer said. \"The way you took down The Butcher last week was incredible. And The Viper just yesterday...\"\n\n\"But they just surrendered as soon as I got there.\"\n\n\"Exactly! After resisting the full police force, tear gas, snipers, they surrendered to you! You're amazing.\"\n\n\"I'm hungry.\" Jason said, his stomach grumbling.\n\n\"Come on,\" the officer said. \"I'll take you there on my car. It would be an honour.\"\n\nJason sighed and took one last mournful look at the grocery store. \"Alright,\" he said. \"Let's go.\"\n\n----\n\nJason arrived at the bank. The officers there opened the police tape and barracades for him. He thought he saw one or two of them bow to him. This was getting out of control.\n\n\"Good day, officers.\" he said.\n\n\"Superguy,\" their leader said. \"We're so glad you came. There's a-\"\n\nJason held up his hand. \"I know, I know. Villian. In the bank. Hostages.\" He said. Might as well play the part now that he was here.\n\nJason strode with mock confidence up to the bank doors and walked inside.\n\nThere, he saw a bewildered looking woman in jeans and a t shirt. She was surrounded by cowering bank employees and crying customers.\n\n\"But I just wanted to make a deposit,\" the bewildered woman was saying to the bank manager.\n\nThe bank manager, hiding under his desk, said. \"Please, take whatever you want, just don't hurt anyone.\"\n\nJason coughed. The woman turned and looked at him.\n\n\"Who are you?\" the woman said.\n\nJason stammered. This is usually the point where the bad guy surrenders.\n\n\"Um... I'm Superguy? Uh... Surrender now, before I, um, just surrender, ok?\" Jason said.\n\nThe woman stared at Jason. \"But I haven't done anything.\" She waved her arms around, motioning toward the cowering people. \"They all just started freaking out and crying, like---\"\n\n\"Superguy!\" One of the cowering people said. \"Thank goodness! We're saved.\"\n\nJason rolled his eyes. \"Alright, you're coming with me\" Jason said to the woman.\n\n\"But I---\" \n\n\"Just play along,\" Jason whispered.\n\nHe took the woman by the shoulder and lead her toward the back of the bank.\n\n\"There's a rear door exit back here,\" he whispered. \"You want to go grab a bite to eat?\"\n\nThe woman looked around. \"And maybe a drink...\" she said.\n\n\"Definitely.\" Jason said, smiling for the first time in weeks. \"Let's go.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
898	10,031	0.104477	2,228	[ { "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 Gods you worship were originally portrayed on trading cards known as \"Pokemon\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was a normal day and I was just a normal teenage kid, before I became this pariah, this heretic or hero, depending on who you talk to. Oh how I wish I knew that Saturday morning what I know now, would I do the same? Or would I bury my head in blissful ignorance? \n\nI had gone downstairs for breakfast and lied to my mum about having done my morning prayers. I can't remember which of the 151 Gods we were supposed to pray to that day but I usually skipped it. If it was Zapdo I would often take the time to admire the little stone statue we had for prayers, I liked the way the artisan had carved the spikey wings and embued the piece with a feeling of motion. The rest were fairly mundane, we weren't a rich family and couldn't afford the extravagant prayer aids that some families could. \n\nMum was nagging me about my room and asking when I was going to finally get round to tidying it, but I had other things on my mind. The project for Mr Hemmings had to be completed by Monday and I had written absolutely nothing yet. It was a big deal for the school, Harlow Falls High School had recently uncovered a trove of time capsules. A headteacher around 500 years or so ago must have had a thing for them because every student in that school filled and buried one. \n\nJudging by the contents of the first two that I had opened the students must have been forced to fill them. The contents stank of a half-assed project. So far I had found a week long diary of a students daily life, this was either an unremarkable student or they all lived unremarkable lives. I don't mean that in a harsh way, I am sure Richard Andrews was a perfectly good dude, but I got about as much out of that as someone would reading my diary until today. They must have been told to put a favourite toy in too because I had a really old yoyo and some sort of shiny disc, possibly some sort of old digital media, it had \"METAL GEAR\" and \"Solid\" written underneath and there was a hole cut out of the centre. I was exasperated, how was I supposed to write a two page essay on this junk? Mr Hemming was going to hit the roof on Monday. I had tried searching the Info-Net for any details on this Metal Gear but nothing was coming up, any information from before our \"Great Ecclesiastical Republic\" had formed seemed to have been purged, it was like hitting a brick wall when trying to look past 300 years ago. \n\nI gave my Mum a kiss, muttered some vague promises about my room and grabbed my jacket, phone, keys and Pica charm. The Pica charm was a little silver model of the God Pica, a mouse like creature with a spikey tail and whiskers. It was cute and brought luck, I never left the house without it, I wasn't really religious but I wasn't an idiot after all. \n\nI hopped on my skateboard and started heading towards the school, it went against every fibre of my being to head to school on a Saturday but I had one more time capsule to open and I needed to get that essay written.\nI skated out of the suburb and into town, I passed Spiritual Park and looked enviously at the centre fountain. The fountain had a huge bronze statue of Venus in the centre, the giant toad like face looked almost gloating at me, with colourful flowers sprouting from it's back. It was surrounded by a circular water feature with the God Squirtoise, a stone statue of the turtle God with hidden water pipes, spraying water in fantastic arcs across the pool and Venus. It was the edge of the pool that I was envious of though, an incredibly smooth stone kerb that was fantastic for grinding along on my board. I glanced around a saw the garden caretakers huddled nearby and knew that those religious nuts would kick up a storm if they saw me grinding the fountain again. Last time they got word to my mum and she didn't let me forget it for months. \n\nI thought better of trying a frontside grind with so many people about and headed reluctantly on to school. When I got there I entered the code into the electronic door lock that Mr Hemmings had given us and went towards the history classroom. There is something eery about an empty school, you could hear a pin drop and I was used to the noise of shouting, ringing of bells and people running up and down the halls. I shook off the feeling and made my way into the room, my two open capsules were there with the junk discarded to the side and next to it my only hope. The last unopened capsule, a grey metal tube about 30cm long and as wide as a dinner plate. \n\nI unscrewed the top, praying to Pica that I would finally get some luck and find something worth writing about. The lid came off easily, unlike that second one which had taken a few minutes of straining and cursing, and I gently tipped the contents onto the desk. I first saw another diary and swore out loud, I was not going to read through another weeks worth of innane teenage rambling. \n\nI pushed it to the side and saw a set of cards tied together with a band, they had been individually slotted into see through plastic sleeves, perhaps for protection. They were blue with a red and white sphere in the centre, the writing caught my eye, \"Pokémon\" in an exciting yellow font. They looked cool but I wasn't sure about how I could write two pages on them. \n\nI flipped them over and my breath caught, I was staring at a picture the God \"Dug\". Revered by miners no one would enter a mine without an image of Dug on their clothing, it was said terrible things would happen if they did. Whoever had created this was clearly fiercely religious, the artistry was incredible, bright colours and smooth lines, far better than the images the miners wore. I tore my eyes from the picture and scanned the rest of the card the top was titled \"Diglett\" which struck me as strange but 500 years had past so perhaps language had changed and the top right had \"40 HP\" with a red circle containing a fist. Underneath the picture were strange words concerning abilities called Dig and Dig through. There were various numbers printed on it and it all became a little indecipherable for me. \n\nI removed the band and scanned through the remaining cards, they were incredible. I saw Hitmonch who boxers touch before entering the ring, there was Karp who fishermen had carved into their boat to ensure a bountiful catch and pidge who pilots prayed to before flying. I flicked through them awestruck, the artistry was incredible, I was used to the colourless images shown in our National Temples. These were eye-catching and exciting. The names were all wrong and the writing below the images escaped my understanding but these images could easily fill a two page essay. \n\nThe final card was the best of all, a glorious shiny image of the God \"Char\", our fierce God of War. It caught the light coming in from the window and the dragon God with wings spread was in the middle of a terrifying roar. Char was used to strike fear into the Republic's enemies and this image would be splashed across our war machines the moment the military saw. \n\nI tore my eyes from the Char card which was labeled incorrectly of course and studied the final item. A hardcover book titled \"Pokémon Encyclopedia\" with a colourful image of Pica in the centre. I found my hand reaching unconsciously to my Pica charm and rubbed it for good luck. \n\nI opened the book and the first line almost physically knocked me to the floor. It read \"Pokémon or Pocket Monsters is a children's card game created in Japan by Satoshi Tajiri where trainers battle each other with fictional monsters\". The words \"fictional\" and \"monsters\" screamed out at me. I hungrily devoured the book, skim reading it in what felt like minutes. It talked about this popular toy craze that started in an ancient forgotten civilisation called Japan and spread across the globe. \n\nAll I could think about was the millions of hours our people had wasted worshipping a children's toy, the thousands of lives destroyed in the name of Char, or as the Encyclopedia called him, Charizard, a fictional, non-existant cartoon character. The Great Ecclesiastical Republic had sold us a complete lie and this book proved it, this book alone held the evidence to open the world's eyes. \n\nI took out my Pica charm and after a moment heistitation I threw it as hard as I could against the wall, it was just a chunk of useless metal after all. I had to get the word out, but how?", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,423	10,020	0.013473	1,451	[ { "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 barista looks at you oddly. “Sorry, mate, no play money, only cash.” She reads the twenty in her hand...”America? Where’s that?” You see a world map among the cafe decor, and between Canada and Mexico is a wide stretch of water marked “Gulf of Atlantis”. You stumble out of the cafe...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I'd done it again. Slipped out the pocket of reality like a lost wallet, and I hadn't even noticed. \n\nThe barista looked at me like I was going crazy. And maybe I was.\n\nI stared down at the bill in my hand. Yes. It was the same as it had been when I put it in my wallet this morning and walked out the front door. \n\nEverything had been so normal, just seconds before I opened the door.\n\nShe repeated, \"Ma'am, trying to pass off counterfeit currency is a felony.\" She squinted at the bill in my hand. \"What's an America?\"\n\nAnd I as I stared, details emerged. Things I should have noticed: her face was slippery and scaley, and gills frilled on the side of her neck, half-hidden by her pigtails. Even her fingers were webbed. Were they like that, when I handed her the money?\n\nMy words were scattering. Useless as my twenty. I tucked it back into my wallet, morbidly aware of all the people in line behind me, staring at the back of my head.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I stammered out. \n\nTruth was, it wasn't the first time this happened.\n\nFalling out of time. Catching myself in the arms of a reality that couldn't possibly be real.\n\nGod. Going crazy felt like losing myself, piece by piece. Like turning into a broken puzzle.\n\nI turned to hurry out of the shop. Head down, ears burning. Last week, I had opened the grocery store door and walked into a tavern that smelled of honey and sweat. I nearly walked into a huge, looking man who demanded something with gravelly, ancient words I couldn't understand. The week before, I opened my bathroom door and found it had turned into a jungle overnight. The week before that I nearly stepped out of my apartment door and out onto the edge of a snowy cliff.\n\nAnd every time, I just turned around right back out, and the world was right again.\n\nYes. That's all I had to do this time.\n\nWalk right out and pretend everything was fine.\n\nI turned to go, trying not to stare at the man just behind her. He had the same fishlike look, but he had the sharp teeth of a barracuda as he watched me pass.\n\nI pushed against the cafe door and stepped out into a street lined with buildings. The light posts had heads shaped like angler fish, lighting the dark. The pavement was sandy sea floor, gone hard and dry. I tilted my head up. Overhead, the sky was glass holding back the ocean. Fish and mermen darted in the gloom.\n\nMy heart lunged for my throat. Panic burned white-hot in my eyes, but I blinked fast, trying to keep calm.\n\nThis time, I hadn't gone back to normal. I was still stuck in it. Whatever it was.\n\nAnd somehow, I could only think about my damn cats. Who was going to feed them if I was stuck wandering my own crazy--\n\n\"Hey.\"\n\nI turned, startled. \n\nA man leaned against the wall beside the cafe. I scanned him for gills or those strange knife-pupil fish eyes. But he looked... Normal. He looked human, like me. He was dark-haired and tall, and dressed in all-black. I watched my own shocked face stare back at me in his reflective sunglasses.\n\n\"You got time-stuck,\" he observed.\n\n\"Can you tell me where we are?\" I asked, my voice hitching. \n\n\"Atlantis.\" He regarded the watch on his arm. \"It will still exist for a few more centuries in this dimension.\"\n\n\"This ... What?\" My belly spun sickly. \n\n\"Don't try to act so innocent. You're April Lee Jones, specifically the version of you from the dimension UD-738X.\" He lifted his sunglasses, and his glare was full of heat. \"I'm Detective Morris. And I've been cleaning up your mess for weeks.\"\n\nIf this was my own hallucination, he was an asshole. I scowled at him. \"I don't even know what you're talking about. I'm just...\" I searched for the word. I couldn't bring myself to say crazy. \"Lost.\"\n\n\"I've seen you jumping between realities like it's nothing. You have any idea the work you made for the Quantum Paradox cleanup boys? The number of causal loops they had to untangle?\" \n\nI could only laugh in disbelief. \"Wow. Maybe I'm not the crazy one.\"\n\nBut Morris wasn't laughing. He pulled open his coat and revealed a gleaming silver badge at his hip. A gun holstered beside it. \"Come on, little time skipper. I'm here to take you in.\"\n\n*\n\n[Part 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/f7ma8u/the_time_keepers_part_2/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,291	10,009	0.075681	1,169	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Panic spreads amongst the African Vampire community after Toto blesses the rains.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Tanzania, February 1983\n\nKaisi hummed along to the radio as he tidied his house. His sister was coming to visit tomorrow night, and he liked things to be tidy anyway. This would probably be the last time she visited him for a few months, as the rainy season would be starting any day now, and she was always busy at that time of year.\n\nFrom the outside, his house looked like a simple stone house several kilometers outside of Kigoma, not very large, but ample room for a bachelor of 130 years. But a trapdoor in the floor of the bedroom led to a rather large underground dwelling where Kaisi spent much of his time. It was here that he was now, preparing for his sister and the coming rain, which yearly left enough water in through the unfinished walls to leave puddles on the floor. It normally wasn't much more than an annoyance, but once every ten years or so, Kaisi would have a temporary underground swimming pool.\n\nThe voice of the DJ crackled through his radio. 'And that was Hungry Like the Wolf, by Duran Duran. Now for a tune that's sweeping across the United States. Here's Africa, from Toto.' A brassy sound filled Kaisi's home, quickly followed by a plinking instrument that reminded him of rain, then a soft voice. 'I hear the drums echoing tonight...' Kaisi couldn't help but start swaying to the catchy tune. By the second chorus, he was singing along. 'I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA!' He laughed to himself a little. How strange would it be if this band could actually bless the rains about to come? Strange and horrifying, certainly. Kaisi had only come into contact with holy water once, by accident, but he remembered how bad it had stung.\n\nFour evenings later, Kaisi was tending his garden when the rains finally came. He had watched lightning play on the horizon for an hour or so, and was just getting ready to go inside when a few drops started falling from the sky. One landed on his cheek and he swatted at his face as it seared his skin, leaving a blister and burning his fingers where he'd swiped the moisture away. Several more raindrops landed on his arms, but it felt like acid. He ran for his front door, dropping his tools as the roar of the downpour swept closer to him.\n\nKaisi slammed his door shut just as the sheet of rain drew over his house. He stumbled into his bathroom, head down to keep any stray drops from falling into his eyes, groping for his towel. Finally grasping it, he pressed it to his face and head, moaning. What Hell was this? The rain felt like it was holy water, burning wherever it touched his skin and leaving angry welts as he dried himself.\n\nHis phone rang. Fingers stinging, he picked up the receiver. 'Hello?' he rasped.\n\n'Kaisi!' It was his sister. 'I'm so glad you answered! Don't go outside! There's something wrong with the rain. It's like it's been turned into holy water, but no one knows how. You have to promise me you'll stay inside.'\n\nKaisi almost rolled his eyes at his sister's excessive concern, but then he remembered his plans for later that night. 'I don't have any blood stored here,' he whispered. 'I'm going to starve. If I don't starve, I'll be dissolved by the rain.'\n\n'No! Don't say that! Just... just stay inside. We'll find a way to reach you with some blood,' she told him. 'Just stay inside, and stay dry.'\n\nHe said goodbye and hung up, then slumped in a chair, listening to the water pound on the roof. It might let up tomorrow evening, or it might last for days. As he rubbed at the blisters on his arm, he could just make out the plip plip of water dripping into his basement.\n\nIt had been almost twenty years since the rain had been heavy enough to fill the lower level of his home.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,680	9,996	0.289316	1,761	[ { "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 to find death sitting on your bed, petting your sleeping dog softly. \"Funny thing with mortals is their time isn't always set in stone. Look after this dog. You and him are more important than you can know. See you in 3 years.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/fce2h7/a_visit_from_death_part_2)\n\nLaying in bed, Nora tossed and turned in a restless sleep. She’d been up late into the night, studying for a midterm that she was worried she’d fail. Even as she slept, numbers and equations were flashing through her mind, causing chaotic dreams.\n\nA brush of ice cold wind startled her awake, the time shining brightly across the room in red numbers. It was barely 4 am, and her exam was the first thing in the morning.\n\nShe heaved a deep breath before trying to roll over and fall back asleep. The air was still chilled, and she tugged at her oversized quilt, trying to pull it in place over her torso.\n\nWhen it didn’t budge, she was pulled closer to full consciousness - mostly due to annoyance.\n\nBrand must be laying on the blanket again. The dog was nearly 85 pounds of solid muscle, and somehow every night he ended up with a majority of the covers.\n\nSitting upright, ready to shove her four legged friend aside, Nora instead found herself face to face with a cloaked figure. They were the source of the tangled blanket.\n\nTheir eyes glowed a strange piercing gold, and their skin was drawn tightly over their face, pulling their lips into a strangled smile. Laying across their lap was the bladed end of scythe, and the dim street light that shone through the window reflected off of it balefully.\n\nNora let out a strangled cry, trying to back away from the figure.\n\nWhere was Brand? He’d never have let someone get this close to her willingly.\n\nNow fully awake, her previous half manifested cry turned into a blood curdling scream.\n\nA scream that seemed to echo into the air and then fade into nothing. There was no response from the street, or the other tenants in the building, or even Brand.\n\nBrand, who should have been laying where the cloaked figure was sitting.\n\n“Shhh daughter. All is fine,” the figure said with a gargle. If someone had had their vocal cords cut, Nora figured they would sound like the stranger.\n\nNora screamed again, but the figure simply bent over and reached for something on the ground.\n\nBrand.\n\nHe was laying in a peaceful curl, back paws tucked under his chin. He was at the stranger’s feet, completely relaxed.\n\nFor a second Nora feared that he was dead, but she could see his slow even breathing, and even as she watched, his paws twitched as he had a little doggy dream.\n\nWhen the cloaked figure scrubbed between Brand’s pointed ears, and the dog didn’t respond, Nora flinched.\n\nThis was going to be how she died. Some stranger breaking into her small flat, and her oh so loyal dog, not even bothering to wake up.\n\nAt least she wouldn’t have to take that exam in a few hours.\n\nEven as she thought that, she started to relax. She was terrified by the stranger’s presence, but at the same time they emitted such an aura of calm that she found her heart slowing, and her fear fading.\n\n“Who are you?” she asked. It seemed like such a stupid question, especially if she was about to die, but it was the first thing that came to Nora’s frazzled mind.\n\n“Death.”\n\nThe answer seemed almost jovial, though the voice was still ragged, and the figure’s golden eyes were once again locked on hers.\n\n“Oh.”\n\nOf course it was death. Who else carries a scythe? Nora felt rather foolish for asking.\n\n“What are you doing here? Did I die in my sleep?” Nora twisted to look to see if her body was actually below her, as if her spirit had just sat up and left the body behind.\n\nIt was not.\n\nDeath did not answer, instead just watched her, and continued to pet the sleeping Brand.\n\n“Is Brand dead?” She asked, as he was the only other living thing in the room.\n\nA small shake of their head, and Death smiled.\n\n“So it is me then?” Nora was now completely calm, and while disappointed that this would be the end, squared her shoulders.\n\n“It was supposed to be,” Death acknowledged, laying their other hand on the scythe. Their bones were nearly visible through their translucent skin, and Nora had an unsettling chill run up her spine.\n\n“Supposed to be?” she asked. The wording seemed odd to her.\n\n“Funny thing with mortals is their time isn’t always set in stone. Look after this dog. You and him are more important than you can know. See you in 3 years.”\n\nDeath bent down once more and pet Brand, before standing and walking towards the door. But before they reached it, they simply disappeared.\n\nA strange stillness that Nora hadn’t even realized had filled the room suddenly vanished.\n\nA car honked from the street, and she could hear the upstairs neighbor snoring.\n\nA terrified hiccup escaped from her, and Brands ears twitched.\n\nThen she was hyperventilating, unsure if the moments before had been a dream or not.\n\nAt the sound of his owner’s distress, Brand was awake and climbing onto the bed.\n\nNora wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his thick fur. He gently licked her hands and pressed himself against her chest.\n\nShe wasn’t sure when she fell asleep again, but Nora was awoken by her phone’s alarm blaring at 7:30am.\n\nShe glanced around the room, as she silenced the alarm. Everything was exactly as she’d left it the night before, but Brand was still sleeping, his head on her chest.\n\nWhat a strange nightmare she’d had. It was crisper than any dream she’d ever had before. She wanted to stop and think about it, but her exam was in half an hour and she still had to get to campus.\n\nAs she raced out the door, Brand gave a sad wag of his tail, and moved to the window to watch Nora jog down the street towards the bus station.\n\n---\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/fce2h7/a_visit_from_death_part_2)\n\nFor more by me and others, check out /r/redditserials", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,991	9,983	0.091701	1,837	[ { "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": "\"noise complaint, $20\", to \"domestic abuse, $150\", to \"bank robbery in progress, $5000\".", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Check again, it's almost 10, some party has to be getting loud by now?\"\n\n\"I've refreshed it 4 times, all that's changed is that Mrs. Stevens call has gone up ten bucks, so unless you want listen to her say her husband is planning to kill her for an hour shut the- ha nevermind it looks like Tom took it.\"\n\n\"Seriously? How much did you take off him last night anyway?\"\n\n\"Like 200, the guy bought in twice and still was out after an hour.\"\n\n\"Well, Mikey moneybags, maybe you don't need to go on any calls tonight, but I still plan on my kids eating this week.\"\n\n\"Listen Jonny Boy, I've seen your kids, they could afford to miss a few meals.\"\n\n\"You asshole, just find us a fucking call.\" John could not help laughing as he said so as he turned down another quiet street on another quiet night. Mike hit refresh on CPW every few minutes in between texts with Mary.\n\n\"'Contract Police Work'\" John Scoffed \"They should just call it 'Cops Pissing in the Wind'\"\n\n\"Hey wait a minute, we got a lurker on Elm\"\n\n\"What's it pay?\"\n\n\"A hundred a piece, it's 5 minutes away, and they need two officers. Looks like it's time for Mike and his trusty sidekick Jonny boy to spring into action.\" Mike put on his best Saturday morning cartoon narrator as John pulled a U-turn. After confirming on CPW, they headed to Elm street with their sirens and headlights off. They turned down the street and quickly pulled behind a parked car. Their unmarked car blended well with the exceedingly normal neighborhood surroundings.\n\n\"You see anything?\" John asked\n\n\"Yes, I've just been waiting for you to ask me.\" The sentence started as a friendly ribbing, but by the end Mike made it clear he was falling into a much more serious mood. It was dark, no moon was out, and the streetlamps only cast small cones of light straight down. The cruiser had a powerful flashlight on the driver side, but they did not use it. They both scanned up and down the street as far as they could, hoping to glimpse some movement. Just as Mike was going to suggest moving up a couple 100 feet, a silhouette flitted across the street 3 streetlamps down the road.\n\n\"Let's go\" Mike said as they both quietly got out of the car, they stopped short of closing their doors to remain silent. John led the way, sticking to the shadows, they head in the same direction as the perp. They headed between two houses and saw the shadow disappear around a corner They heard a fence door open and close as they began to slowly close in. The fence door led to a backyard of a standard suburban house. John looked in between the slats, he was able to make out the figure crouched at the back door of the house.\n\n\"He's picking the lock, we get can him while he's distracted\" John whispered.\n\n\"Are you kidding, do you know how much a B&E pays now, it's 500 a piece even if we don't arrest him, double if we do.\" Mike said with a smile. John thought nervously for a few seconds, but he too smiled in agreement. They both looked back through the fence as the inept thief struggled to pick the lock. Mike began to worry he might get nervous and give up.\n\n\"I swear to god, I'll pick this fucking lock myself if he doesn't get in soon\" But Mike was far from angry, he was practically licking his lips in anticipation. Eventually they heard the fateful click of the lock and they kept watching the suspect, getting ready to follow him in. They saw him put his lockpick in his jacket pocket and exchange it for a 9mm pistol. Mike and John both recoiled and looked at each other. A cold jolt of fear and adrenaline went up their spines, neither spoke as they carefully drew their guns, but they both were thinking the same thing. Armed assailants pay triple. They spent a considerable amount of time opening the fence door as quietly as possible. They approached either side of the back door that the thief left open and peaked in. Nothing.\n\nTheir training began to kick in as they cleared each room in the downstairs area methodically and quietly. Their guns were drawn, probing ahead of them, fingers on the triggers, as they soon began to suspect the thief already moved upstairs. As they headed to the foot of the stairs back in the foyer they could hear muffled conversation coming from somewhere upstairs. Mike looked at John, who simply shrugged his shoulders, neither could make out what was being said. As they slowly climbed the stairs, cringing at every perceived creak, they heard the voices getting louder, but still couldn't make out the words. \n\n\"Twelve...\" was all Mike could make out before the voice trailed off. \"Twelve...\"\nand again he couldn't hear anything else until they got right to the top of the stairs and moved towards the only bedroom with light shining out on the floor.\n\n\"Twelve fucking years.\" They sidled up to either side of the door and could now hear clearly what was being said.\n\n\"I'm so sorry please don't do this.\" They could both hear a woman say.\n\n\"Twelve fucking years, twelve fucking years, does that mean nothing to you? Twelve fucking years.\" \n\n\"Don't do this man\" a frightened voice said.\n\n\"Twelve fucking years, why didn't you just divorce me, why did you have to do this\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry\" the woman was sobbing uncontrollably.\n\nJohn had heard enough, he walked away from the door a few feet and then did an about face getting ready to kick the door. He looked at Mike, Mike stared back and shook his head no. John was puzzled at this and signaled that he was going to kick the door. He counted down on his fingers, but Mike grabbed him and pushed him against the wall.\n\n\"You should have fucking divorced me. 12 years, you should have fucking divorced me you bitch!\" The man yelled. John struggled viciously to get free of Mike's hold. \n\n\"I guess I'll do it then.\" The man was calm and quiet now. John used all his strength and pushed Mike off him. He took one step and froze as shot after shot rang out. The shots didn't stop until every round was spent. John remained frozen as Mike moved past him, kicked down the door and unloaded his pistol into the newly minted murderer. After this, they'd be set for a year.\n\nEdit: Thanks for all the feedback, this was literally my first try at r/writingprompts and it's amazing to get such a supportive response. I love the discussion of how to build a CPW system that descentivizes corruption, in this universe, everyone is content with the corruption haha. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,977	9,971	0.313415	2,826	[ { "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 was an immortal, your mother mortal, this makes you half-mortal. You can die, but your immune system is bitchin.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The girl's lungs were filled with fluid. Dr. Clark had warned me of such. But it was her eyes that communicated the worst. One of her lens was crack, veins shattered and tearing at her delicate iris with each blink. She looked to me as I approached, but I doubted she could see me from the damaged eye. Her good iris shrank as she drew in the vision of me. I doubt it was anything special to the normal eye, but to this girl in her sanitation tent... I was likely a miracle. A man. With a face. No facemask, no yellow latex suit, no gloves. Well, I paused and slipped on a pair. \n\n\n\"An... gel?\" she asked in her own tongue.\n\n\n\"No,\" I adopted her language as I knelt down and cradled her head, turning it towards the ceiling of the tent. \"Just a man,\" I said simply. \"Breath?\" I asked her.\n\n\nShe tried to take a heavy inhale before devolving in a fit of coughing. She turned away from me, a milky white mucus splattering across her filthy cot as she tried to shrink into the smallest ball she could. She knew she was dying, this alien disease assaulting her body uncurable. I took out a test tube, and looked her twice over. \n\n\n\"Straighten out. Don't worry. I won't get sick,\" I insisted. She was not buying it. So instead, I took out a pair of tweezers, and scooped up the large bit of mucus I could. Sure, the sample was likely incomplete or sullied by the cot and its fibers, but after years of this exercise... I believe I knew what to look for. I smiled to the girl, and rustled her bushy hair with my hand. I took off my glove of course. \"Hey, when you get out,\" I asked as I pulled out my equipment. It was akin to a lab, complete with a microscope and minicentrifuge. I set up the stream from my laptop. Outside of the tent, there was likely a team of doctors watching my work closely- I knew at least Dr. Clark would want to see me in action. \"What's the first thing you'd like to do?\" \n\n\nThe girl did not answer immediately. It was a heavy question, hardly fair to ask a patient who genuinely believed she was beyond help. But she answered, eventually. \"Run... away.\"\n\n\n\"Oh? What're you running from?\" I asked her, as I set the mucus down upon the petri dish I brought with me. I had to capture a few images of the disease in action... and there was a good chance that treating the mucus alone would not be enough. \n\n\n\"My... father,\" she answered simply. I pursed my lips as I checked the mucus. Indeed, it was just the common byproduct of the fever. Every system of her body was fighting against this disease- violently. And they were losing. Her heart, her lungs, every muscle and fiber of her body... they were battling this disease. They had been at war for weeks, but they had no plan, no countermeasure. Now, her body was trying to cook the virus to death, in a final, desperate move. She expounded upon her answer with a few more words croaking through her throat. \"I'm not... perfect... anymore.\"\n\n\n\"Perfect?\" I picked upon the word as I stood up, pulling out an empty needle. I needed a blood sample, after all. I sat the edge of her cot, and held up her wrist, dabbing her cubital fossa with a bit of alcohol.\n\n\n\"He can't use me... anymore. For marriage,\" she added. Ah, yes, by my skin tone, it would seem like I didn't know how the customs of her land worked. But I had spent enough time in this land... I had seen its kingdoms rise, and its oceans dry. A 'gift' as my mother would have put it. But there was always something that brought me back here, to the heart of humanity. I plunged the needle in and extract the blood I needed. I held the cotton swab upon the puncture, and taped it into place.\n\n\n\"Can't use you, hm?\" I asked as I stood up and carried the sample back to test it. \"Let me guess... and tell me if I'm wrong,\" I added. I had met the man. He seemed... invested in saving her life. He paid for my services, and the fact that he reached the point of even asking for me by name would suggest that he was in deep with this disease. \"You think your father wants you to... bring in some man? One with a career or promise?\"\n\n\n\"A son he always... wanted,\" her words were forced out.\n\n\n\"Hm. You know... my mother wanted a girl,\" I replied. \"Parents... they are quite... bad at hiding their disappointment,\" I said as I analyzed the sample. Indeed, the virus present there was something I had never seen before... such was the nature of life. It never stopped mixing it up. This one was aggressive, to say the least. But it was complex. Shifting, changing, manipulating her body to combat itself. White Blood Cells assaulting healthier cells, stealing proteins for a battle they were being misdirected... and all the while, the virus seemed to enjoy the peace. \"But they are quite talented at hiding their pride.\"\n\n\n\"... pride?\" the girl coughed. Perhaps she tried to scoff.\n\n\n\"Yeah. My mom was really good at not smiling,\" I replied. \"I used to joke about everything with her, just to see her smile. But I could only get her to do it when I used the dog.\" \n\n\n\"You have... a dog?\" she asked. \"I did... Sunny.\" She gave her pet an English name.\n\n\n\"What was Sunny like?\" I asked. \"What breed?\" I pricked my finger. A drop of blood spooled at the tip of my finger, ready to fight. I pressed my eyes to the viewer, finger drifting above the petri dish. With a tap of my finger, my blood fell upon the contaminated sample. Time to apply myself. \n\n\n\"He was a... Labrador. He always looked like he was smiling,\" I imagine the girl was smiling. I could not afford to look away. My blood met her sample, and the war began. Neutrophil first, probing and attacking the infection, before they were joined by Killer T cells. This was where the fun began. Some would call it a 'miracle.' I called it 'phone home.' Instead of sending the pathogen's information up the chain of command to my own system of memory cells, they surrounded the chosen sacrifice... and began to assault it. My immune system was, fundamentally different from those that drove the bodies of people. I had human blood in me, certainly... but my father's blood was by far the more useful. But it was my mother's heart that pushed me to be here.\n\n\n\"Did he like running too?\" I asked her as my hand flew over the page beside me, taking notes as my cells brute forced their way to resolving the pathogen.\n\n\n\"He couldn't out run me,\" the girl said. There was a note of pride to her voice. That smile was likely growing wider. Good, good...\n\n\n\"I saw the ribbons in your room. And the trophy,\" I added. \"How did you start?\" I asked her as the cells found their answer. It was beginning to break down the pathogens... they found their answer... and I found mine. I recorded the result on my pad, before turning to the camera on my laptop. I gave the man a thumbs up. \n\n\n\"My cousin liked running. He challenged me to races all the time in school,\" she said. Cousin probably isn't the most accurate translation. In her tongue, brother, and sister are used interchangably with close friends. I remember it confused me every time I returned to this region. But no matter. She was still talking. I pulled out my collection of materials, and got to work. Antidote... antidote... what could I use to convince her own cells to follow in the footsteps of my own? \n\n\nShe coughed again. She quieting down... I needed a new subject. Fast. If she slept, it would waste precious time. \"Does your dad... like your running?\" I asked, stumbling a bit with the words, and offering a malformed question as a result. \"You know... show up to meets, or competitions.\"\n\n\n\"He only... came for my nationals run,\" she answered, sounding weaker and weaker. \"I didn't even notice till I saw him on the screen.\" \n\n\n\"He seems like a busy man,\" I offerred. Kids love to complain about their busy parents, right?\n\n\n\"Yeah,\" she began to adopt a lazier tongue. \"He's the worst.\"\n\n\n\"Make promises?\"\n\n\n\"Never kept 'em.\"\n\n\n\"Sounds like my dad.\"\n\n\n\"What does... your father do?\" \n\n\nOoh. That was a hard one. How to answer that...? \"He's a company president,\" I answered after a bit. \"He also got very busy. Your mom do anything?\" I asked as my fingers pinched, and laid things upon the weighing machine.\n\n\nShe looked at me funny.\n\n\nOh right... cultural boundaries. \n\n\n\"Sorry, dumb question.\"\n\n\n\"She used to study... nuclear physics,\" the girl answered. I set my centrifuge, my fingers flexing as it began to spin. Almost there... almost... \"But she quit... when she married.\"\n\n\n\"Have you... considered that path? Nuclear Physics, I mean,\" I said as I pulled out a fresh needle... and turned to the camera, holding up my notes. Hopefully Dr. Clark was paying attention. No worries... I could email him the details later.\n\n\n\"I read her books... too smart,\" the girl sighed.\n\n\n\"Hey, don't think like that,\" I cut in, pulling the plunger. I turned the turned the needle 180 degrees. I pressed down till some of the cure spurted out. Perfect. I looked her body over, just to make sure I had enough for her... I mean, surely, at her mass, this would be more than enough. I would administer it slowly. I sat down by her side once again, and lifted the cotton I had taped to her before. \"You have the best gift a human can have- time. If you apply yourself, you can accomplish just about anything you set yourself to. You know... it took me... thirty years to earn my doctorate,\" I said. She peered at me queerly.\n\n\n\"You mean... thirteen?\" she asked.\n\n\nYeah, lets go with that. \"Sorry, thirteen,\" I corrected myself, pushing the plunger down. \"And you know what? I think it was worth it. I love being a doctor. It takes me to strange places, guides me to new people... and I get to hear all kinds of stories,\" I said, pushing the cure into her blood stream. I let out a bated breath, before pulling the needle out. Halfway. \"In fact, I think I met this fascinating young lady...\" I began, setting the needle aside, and letting her body win its war.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,252	9,968	0.244721	923	[ { "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 an ability to hear a ‘Ding’ sound to know if someone’s speaking the truth. One day, your childhood friend of 17 years says “I swear, I’ll kill you one day.” You both laugh but then you heard a ‘Ding’. Scared, you asked if it’s true. “No” they replied. Silence.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "A telltale chime rung loud and clear in my mind, declaring that the words I just heard were nothing but the pure and honest truth.\n\n“Sorry, what did you say?” I hid my hands in my pockets to hide their trembling, which grew more intense with every passing second.\n\n“I said I'll definitely kill you one day,” he said.\n\nAt his words, another ring echoed in my mind.\n\nI looked upon his face, and saw that his once carefree smile now seemed empty and hollow – and merely served to mock me with its presence. And his eyes were devoid of the luster I once saw in them, and even though they looked at me, it felt like they stared straight through me. Even though my unseen ability had never failed me once in all the years I had lived, I truly hoped in those moments that I had been fooled by that terrible chime.\n\n“Funny joke, man,” I said, my voice cracking as I spoke, “but that's weird. You don't mean that do you?”\n\n“No man, not at all,” he said, and shot me a smile filled with nothing but teeth.\n\nEven though no ring came to me, I couldn't help but flinch nonetheless.\n\n“Well, I'd best get going anyway,” I said, as I struggled to stand on my own shaking legs. It was only when I had managed to right myself that I noticed he had been staring at them the entire time, and no doubt seen the trembling fear within them. \n\n“I think my mom was making lasagna,” he said, as he stared blankly off into the distance, “I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you stayed for dinner.”\n\nI heard only a single chime that time. And while I could not immediately discern which statement it belonged to, I knew in my heart it was the latter.\n\n“Nah man,” I said, as I took a brief look at my broken wristwatch, “I'd really best get going.”\n\n“Alright,” he said, “I'll see you at school tomorrow.”\n\nAs I turned to walk away, I heard no chime follow his words.\n\nAnd as I made my way through his house and out into the front yard and beyond, I always made sure to watch my back, fearful of the one I once called my best friend.\n\nAnd as I stood before the doors of my own home, I felt my phone buzz in my pockets. But retrieving it from them was an arduous task on account of my own trembling hands. And as I turned on the screen and saw the single message upon the screen, I felt my heart skip a beat.\n\n“You want to skip school tomorrow and check out that old junkyard?”\n\nI couldn't stop myself from vomiting all over the welcome mat.\n\n* * *\n\n/r/khaarus", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,229	9,968	0.027342	823	[ { "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": " Like Spider-Man, you have a built-in \"danger sense\", but instead of alerting you of danger, it stops time around you until you're out of danger. One day, time stops suddenly, and as usual, you tried to move until time continues again, but after an hour of walking, time is still frozen.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Derek sat at the edge of the cliff. St John's head, tourist spot and breathtaking view, the birds stood still mid-flight and the waves were solid as gemstone. If only the wind hadn't stopped, he wanted to feel it's strength on his face one last time, but this was not to be.\n\nThis could be purgatory, he thought, the world is beautiful but paralyzed, or dead. There wasn't much difference from where he stood.\n\nHe had traveled to his favorite spots, the highlands, the coast, the cliff. There is beauty in a picture. There was only dread where Derek went. Trees did not bend under the gust, the sea did not assault his nostrils with the scent. He could see, all his other sense were numb. A sterile world, that's what it was.\n\nIt looked a lot like cardiac arrest, his left arm had become suddenly numb, he thought it would pass. It didn't. Eternity in sterility, that's what life had in store for him instead of letting him die as it should.\n\nDerek's mind wouldn't hold. Be it in a year or a decade, he would go insane, no human could withstand the isolation. He thought about engraving his story in stone, somewhere in a public place. Passerby would wonder how it appeared, he'd become the most discussed topic post-mortem. He could travel the world and do so in every country, create a new religion, this time for peace. Until humans would twist it as a pretext for war, obviously.\n\nBut all the plans soon felt hollow. Derek had only one true choice. Step of the cliff, or stay on solid ground.\n\nThe only way to get rest would be to jump. But what if he didn't die on the spot and time stood still again, leaving him broking and in pain for eternity? He never harmed himself in the bubble before, didn't know the result. And what if he didn't and went mad, traveled around and stab people, thinking they were but hallucinations and only he was real?\n\nWhat if? Scared, he did what his mom taught him, redo the debate in his mind until he found an answer.\n\nDerek sat at the edge of the cliff. St John's head, tourist spot and breathtaking view, the birds stood still mid-flight and the waves were solid as gemstone.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,453	9,965	0.168612	1,261	[ { "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": " Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Things had been tense in the Penn household ever since Mrs. Penn caught Mr. Penn sifting through the neighbor's trash. She always knew he had eyes for the neighbor lady, but this was the last straw. She could only imagine what he might have been looking for. Something gross, surely.\n\n\"You're a fucking pig,\" she spat at him as they argued in the kitchen. He stiffened for a moment, wondering if she had discovered his secret. It couldn't be. They hadn't been intimate in weeks, ever since he was wiping and he felt that little tail that had sprouted out of his coccyx. She was kinky, but not like that. \n\n\"It's not what you think,\" he insisted. She was extra irritable due to bad sleep. She claimed he snorted all night. Not snored. But snorted. He wondered if that and the tail were related. \"I promise. Something just...\"\n\n\"Just what? Forced you to go looking through her trash? What are you? A stalker?\" She slammed the bedroom door in his face. Mr. Penn moped about the rest of the day. He always felt terrible after they fought. He opted to give his aching legs a break and he crawled over to the sofa. It had been fight after fight since trash day the previous Tuesday. The weekend had brought no cease-fire and now all he could do was snort-cry into the blanket on the sofa. As if the tail wasn't enough, his whole body had started aching; his legs from so much walking on two feet and his arms for some undetermined reason. \n\nHe thought he heard Mrs. Penn calling and one of his ears perked up. Another recent oddity, maybe related to the tail. There it was again. \"Honey?\" he asked as he crawled to the bedroom door. Once there, he tenderly rose to his feet, groaning in pain as he did. \"Are you okay?\" He knocked on the bedroom door, his hand curled into a fist. It hurt to spread his fingers out, as if they belonged closed like a hoof.\n\n\"Can you come in?\"\n\nHe opened the door cautiously and gasped. His wife's nearly flawless face - flawless, if she was asking - was marred by a giant protrusion from her forehead. \"Oh, my...\"\n\n\"Is it a zit?\" she asked in horror. He shook his head. Definitely not, unless it was the King Zit himself come to wreak havoc upon her beautiful features. \n\n\"It's like... A horn?\" She touched the area gently, her fists also balled into hooves.\n\n\"Nayyyy,\" she whined, sounding an awful lot like a whinny. \"I'm like a unicorn,\" she lamented. Mr. Penn couldn't disagree.\n\n\"Honey, can I show you something of my own?\" She nodded, tears creeping down her face. So he turned and mooned her, the little curly tail popping out of his pants. He heard her gasp from behind him. \n\n\"Oh my gosh. You... You're really a pig.\"\n\nHe nodded sadly. \"I'm a fucking pig. You're fucking a pig. Now you're a unicorn.\"\n\n\"What is happening?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I think this might have been why I was going through the trash...\" He knew that explanation wouldn't quite soothe her worries. The neighbor lady really was attractive, at least before she grew three more pairs of arms. \"Does this mean we're okay?\" he asked hopefully.\n\nShe scoffed, or maybe snorted, and her foot scraped angrily across the floor in a weird habit she seemed to have just developed. \"Yeah, right. The day pigs fly, maybe.\"\n\nAs if on cue, Mr. Penn felt an excruciating pain from his arms, right where that dull pain had been for the past few days. A large hump appeared below his shirt and he desperately tore it off, trying to find what was causing his pain. He couldn't help but smile through the pain. \"I think we're in luck then,\" he said as he glanced down. \"I seem to have just sprouted a pair of wings.\"\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" } ]
2,304	9,959	0.026546	1,976	[ { "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": " Jesus has come down from the heavens, but is actually just a chill guy. He is sitting and talking to fans in your city but when you walk to see the savior his relaxed expression fades and is replaced with smugness and at the same time anger. He looks at you and calmly goes, “Ah, the Antichrist”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "News of the second coming spread fast. All the major television outlets were scrambling to get an interview with Jesus. Or as he liked to be called, The jay man. Turns out Jesus is a pretty chill dude, unlike his uptight father. Jesus mostly hung out and spoke about love and unity. He wanted nothing to do with the T.V. interviewers or any organized church for that matter. After the initial excitement wore off The Jay Man was free to live a life like most non-deity folk. He got a job at a dispensary. Started a podcast with his friend Simon. They mostly talked about weed and UFOs. Turns out Jesus is a believer. And he spent the rest of his time hanging at the beach. \n\nSince it was undeniable that Jesus did in fact exist, most people quickly stopped treating Jesus like a celebrity. He’s just a dude that you can see and feel, of course everyone believed in him. And if you believed in him you got a free pass to heaven. It took all the mystery out of Christianity. \n\nBart still put him on a pedestal though. He had spent his whole life praising Jesus in church. Bart is a priest. His whole life was spent spreading Jesus’ word. He traveled all the way from the Midwest to Southern California to meet this hippy god. He wasn’t hard to find. Jesus went to the same beach almost every day to watch the sunset. Him and his friend would hacky sack or toss a frisbee till dusk. Then they would sit on a blanket and speak deeply as the sun hid below the waves. This is where Bart found him. \n\n“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, are you Jesus?” Bart asked even though he knew the answer. \n\nJesus turned with a smile. He had just taken a pull off a large joint. \n\n“Sure am pal,” he said and exhaled. “Pop a squat, we’re talking about the long term societal ramifications from the suppression of Gnosticism.” He paused and squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute, I know you. I know you man! You’re an Anti-Christ. Holy shit, guys check this out. An Anti-Christ has the courage to show up to our little pow-wow.”\n\nJesus friends all looked over at Bart with looks of disgust. \n\n“Now, now guys, don’t judge too quick. Let’s hear what he has to say. Why did you come here Anti-Christ?” Jesus asked. \n\n“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. I’m not the Anti-Christ. In fact I’m a priest.” Bart said and pointed to his holy collar. “I’ve been serving you my whole life. I’m Bart, I came here from Chicago.” Bart said and held out a hand to shake.\n\nJesus patted the blanket next to him. \n\n“Here, have a seat Bart. We have some talking to do.”\n\nBart took his shoes off and sat next to jesus. \n\n“So Bart, I have some bad news for you. You’re not going to like it but I promise you it’s true. And once you understand the truth you will see it clear as day everywhere you look.” The Jay Man said. And held out the joint for Bart. He waved it away as if it were a fly buzzing around. \n\n“What’s this truth?” Bart asked. \n\n“I’m telling you. You’re not going to like it but I feel like you have to hear it. After all you just made a pilgrimage. You deserve something for that.” Jesus said. \n\n“I can take it. I’ve been your humble servant my whole life. Whatever you say is gospel to me.” Bart said dutifully. \n\n“The truth is,” Jesus paused. “That every church across this entire beautiful, weird planet is teaching the word of Satan. He co-opted our word long long ago and convinced the world he is the light. Any religion that has promoted hate is anti-me. Any church that has picked a side during war is anti-me. Any church that teaches any commandments other than love thy neighbor is anti-me. And thus Anti-Christ. All priests, popes, Cardinals, pastors, sidewalk preachers. If they are preaching from the Bible they are preaching the wrong thing. If they preach celibacy or that drugs are inherently bad. They are on the wrong path. The truth lies inside everyone and sometime the key just needs a little help getting turned.” Again Jesus held out the joint to Bart. Again he waved it away. \n\n“Look man, I’m not mad at you. You’ve been brain washed. You were trained to tell people to live without. That withholding certain pleasures from themselves was going to save them a seat upstairs. The real sin is living without. Sin literally means without. It’s been there the whole time in plain sight. Living without experience. Living without love, living without really living. I mean why would my dad create this amazing place if you weren’t meant to experience as much as possible. The Bible has been telling people to live without a lot of things and that’s anti-me. That’s against all my teachings. Is this making any sense?” Jesus asked. \n\nBart nodded his head. It’s about all he could do. He’s learning from the source that he’s not only wasted his life. But been unknowingly spreading Satans word. He’s not sure what he’s regretting more. His wayward life or coming out West to meet the savior in person. \n\n“I just can’t believe it. It’s all a lie? Everything? I’ve been shepherding souls to hell. I’ve been an arm of evil? You know, I always had this feeling that there was something off. Something wrong. Always being the one telling people to stop having fun. Stop enjoying themselves. Guilting and shaming people never felt right.” Bart said not able to look Jesus in the face. \n\n“That’s because it not right. Here, hit this, it will help.” Jesus held out the joint. \n\n“I’ve never, I don’t know if I should.” Bart said. \n\n“Of course you should! Aren’t you listening? It might be uncomfortable but that’s just you shedding that snake skin you’ve been wearing. Stick with me Bart. There’s a new day coming up. Tomorrow, you don’t have to be what you are today. Now hit that and let’s watch this sunset. Tomorrow is on its way.” Jesus said. \n\nBart took a short drag from Jesus’ joint and coughed a little. He handed it back and crossed his legs and got comfortable. Facing west staring at the gigantic spires of pink and orange clouds. \n\n“This is the best show in town Bart. I’m glad you’re here to watch it with us.” Jesus said. \n\nThe group sat quietly watching the giant space ball fall behind the horizon. Listening to the pulse of the ocean. Waves ceaselessly tearing their way into the land. When it was dark the group left their clothes at the beach and took a short skinny dip. All laughs and splash’s. Bart never returned to the Midwest. He never past through the door into another church. He did his best to let love guide his steps. And when he faltered and let fear take a hold. He always had the hippy god to lean on and drag him back out of the muck.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,971	9,952	0.012794	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 world's greatest villain and hero clearly like each other. His monologues when she's captured tend to turn to conversation, and she \"accidentally\" lets him escape arrest. While they're convinced they're enemies, his henchman and her sidekick are just trying to get them together already.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The Black Thief laughed. She had caught Major Magnificent again. \"Fool! You fell for my trap again! This time you won't be able to stop me as I finally steal the Ruby Giant from the Museum of History!\"\n\nMajor Magnificent had been tipped off that Black Thief was going to be murdering the mayor. Instead, he had walked into a booby trap. \"Black! You know this won't hold me! I will stop you, you scoundrel!\"\n\n \"Honestly, Major, when was the last time I captured you?\" The hero struggled in the net hanging over the Black Thief's head. She changed her tone, \"No, seriously? I'm sure that you got a new haircut.\"\n\nThe Major stopped struggling, \"It's not too short? I just wanted something different, but I was worried it was drastic.\"\n\n\"No, no. It looks really good. I'm digging it.\" The Black Thief put her hand on her hip. \" Actually, you should keep it this way. It makes your jaw look really good.\"\n\nThey smiled at each other for a bit before the realization hit.\n\n\"Not that I care or anything!\"\n\n\"Your fiendish charms have no power over me!\"\n\nAs the two argued, two hidden individuals were also arguing behind a pillar, away from sight.\n\n\"Oh, she's going to know it was me. I can't!\" A young girl dressed in black whined.\n\n\"Well, fine! We'll just do this again next week and the week after and the week after. Aren't you tired of her spending all her times thinking of how to capture Major just to let him get away?!\" A young man, dressed in white and gold spoke in an aggressive whisper. \"And I'm tired of not actually fighting crime! He just keeps looking for her and getting 'trapped'. Ugh, I'm so over it!\"\n\nThe young girl in black nodded her head. \"I know you're right. I signed up to get rich, not waste my time catching meatheads.\" She shifted her eyes to her companion quickly, \"No offense.\"\n\n\"Whatever, just do it now.\"\n\n\"And once I've collected the Ruby Giant, I'll be rich enough to own this city and you'll--whoa!\" In the middle of the Black Thief's monologue, she was swept up in her own net. She struggled for a bit hanging next to Major Magnificent.\n\n\"Black! Are you ok?!\" The Major clung to his net as he watched the villain swing from her net.\n\n\" Ow, I think I twisted my ankle. It's in a weird position. Oh, wait. That's better. But it still hurts.\" Black positioned herself to be more comfortable. Suddenly, she let out a roar. \"BLACK ROSE! GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANCE, YOUNG LADY. I KNOW THIS IS YOUR DOING!\"\n\nA trembling Black Rose came out from her hiding place with her young male companion next to her. The Major gasped in shock. \"Muscle Boy?!\"\n\nThe young boy looked away, embarrassed, \"I told you it's Muscle Man now. For, like, three weeks.\"\n\nThe Major lifted his palms, \"Sorry. Sorry. My bad. Just in shock. What's going on here?\"\n\nBlack gave a growl. \"If you don't get me out, Rose, I swear you will regret it for the rest of your life.\"\n\nBlack Rose lifted her head, \"We had to do this! We're leaving you locked in here overnight. Get together or get over each other!\"\n\nMuscle Man grabbed Black Rose and they both stomped away, locking a heavy door behind then.\n\nThe two hanging from the nets yelled at the younglings to come back. They both yelled obscenities and struggled until they grew tired.\n\nAfter an hour of getting no where, both lay back panting. Major gave one final shake of his net which swung his net, bumping into Black.\n\n\"Oh! Sorry.\"\n\n\"It's fine.\"\n\nSilence grew until finally....\n\n\"So, where did you get your haircut?\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,511	9,951	0.150282	1,582	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are the final boss. You have been waiting for the final epic battle against the hero. And waiting. And waiting. Finally, your minions report back. The news? The hero abandoned the main quest to do side quests.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I stand atop my lair gazing out onto the wastes that surround it, scouring the landscape for signs of my enemy's approach. Fire belches from my twisted demonic lungs with every breath. My vaguely draconic wings flutter and twitch ever so slightly as I prepare myself to take flight at first sight of my foe. My spiked tail swishes back and forth in excitement, unable to contain my anticipation. The day I’ve waited for has finally arrived, the moment that will allow me to fulfill my destiny is almost upon us.\n\nDays ago I received word that the so called “Hero” had discovered my true identity and my personal responsibility for his family’s death. It was the happiest moment of my dark and dreary existence. It was said that he was enraged, and was making his way to my domain to confront me with all possible speed.\n\nAt least it seemed so, but as the hours and days passed I began to doubt the actual speed of his advance toward me. Had his horse died? Had he broken a leg? What could possibly have delayed him from arriving at our monumental confrontation for so long?\n\nThroughout these unnerving days, I had sent many of my scouts back out to keep an eye on his progress, and now I demanded answers from one of them.\n\n“Why has he not arrived? Why am I still waiting for my destiny to be fulfilled? WHERE IS HE?”\n\nThe tiny, lesser demon before me cowered as I all but roared my questions at him.\n\n“Lord Belzanarr,” it began in a wavering voice. “The Hero is… he appears to be in Westmarsh.”\n\n“Westmarsh?! That’s hundreds of miles from here, and in the opposite direction!”\n\n“Yes, my lord,” it replied. “Days ago he suddenly halted his charge toward your lair, turned around abruptly and rode off toward the west with all possible speed.”\n\n“What game is he playing? Is there some demon slaying sword of legend residing in a cavern in Westmarsh that I am unaware of? Or a mystical ally who could aid him in bringing about my downfall?”\n\n“No, he appears… we have reliable knowledge that he…\" the demon stuttered before finding his resolve. \"I saw it with my own eyes, my lord. He is in Westmarsh killing rats and gathering ingredients for an elaborate stew.”\n\n“Rats… and an elaborate stew…” I repeated with genuine confusion. \"Is is a magical stew that will empower his attacks or provide him with resistance to my flames?\" I asked hopefully.\n\nThe demon checked his notes and shook its head. \"Reports are that it is a turnip stew, my lord. It requires many ingredients that can take hours to gather, but still just a turnip stew nevertheless.\"\n\n“A turnip stew? I cannot imagine a more common and unremarkable cuisine!\" I said with mounting frustration. \"Slaying rats and stew making are tasks far below a hero of his stature, does he have no choice in this matter? Was he… ordered to complete these quests by his king's royal decree or something of the sort?”\n\n“I’m afraid not, Lord Belzanarr,” it told me. “While stopped at a small town to resupply on his journey here, he found a shabby looking note pinned to a board outside his inn. He read it, then set off immediately in the opposite direction toward Westmarsh. I read the note and brought it for you to see for yourself, my lord.\n\nHe handed it to me. It read simply, “Westmarsh Bounty: Slay 30 rats. Reward: 5 silver pieces.”\n\n“Five silver pieces…” I repeated several times as my anger grew. “FIVE MEASLY SILVER PIECES HAVE DERAILED OUR CLIMACTIC BATTLE FOR THE FUTURE OF OUR SOULS AND THIS ENTIRE REALM?!”\n\nI raged on for minutes on end until a second demonic scout came flying in, interrupting my very justifiable temper tantrum.\n\n“My lord!” it exclaimed. “The Hero has departed Westmarsh!”\n\n“While I remain thoroughly insulted by his priorities, that is indeed welcome news. How long until he arrives on my doorstep for our final confrontation?”\n\n“He… is still not headed this direction,” the second demon replied warily.\n\nMy head came to rest in my hand, utterly defeated. “Well? Where is he headed?” I mumbled.\n\n“The Hero saw an advertisement for 'new content' promising an entire undiscovered new realm full of new quests, adventures, and… greater foes and bosses to slay. He paid a handsome sum and boarded a boat for this new landmass.”\n\n“GREATER foes and bosses?!” I shouted as I flew into an uncontrollable rage. My palms glowed and swirled with otherworldly dark energy as I banished both demon scouts back to the hellish realms from whence they came. My furious, primal screams echoed throughout the halls. Utterly infuriated, I stomped and smashed the floors and walls until chunks of the structure of my lair were crumbling down around me.\n\nEventually I composed myself, but only briefly. His actions were an unthinkable affront to my role as leader of all the forces of evil in this realm. If it was a psychological war this hero was waging against me, then for the moment at least, he was certainly winning.\n___\nCheck out r/Ryter if you want to be derailed by your very own side quest!\n\nGoal: Read more stories.\n\nReward: Uhh, I dunno... hopefully some more laughs and entertainment : )", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,600	9,948	0.003146	1,841	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Everyone has magical control over a single thing. When a person finds thier domain, they are called The (blank) Witch/Wizard. You don't seem to have a domain. That is, until one faitful day at a pizza shop, where you find it. Now begins your legend. Now begins the legend of The Pinball Wizard.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Arterius trudged through the snow to the Pizzeria Supreme. Not for the first time, he wished that his uncle, the Snow Wizard, had not left Fargo for a job as a travelling weatherman / snowstorm slayer out East. No one in his family was bound to the any of the cooking domains, certainly not Arterius, so it was just easier to head to any of the restaurants where the masters of their respective crafts had perfected pizza, rather than stumble through his own pathetic pizza attempt for an inferior result.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nWhereas the larger cities of Omaha and Minneapolis seemed to have some recurring domains (and Gods help a metropolis like Chicago), Fargo seemed just the right size for minimal overlap. Everyone had the own specialty, chosen by whatever domain had bonded with them in adolescence. Sure, they had imported a few extra Fire Wizards from neighboring counties for the Department, but the homegrown, specialized Police Force had one of the highest success rates in the state. The Wiring Wizard handled all the electricity issues Fargo had, and the various doctoring domains kept the city in relatively good health. Arterius' mother was a Surgical Wizard of regional renown, and his father's work with a sewing machine made him a Cloth Wizard second to none. Even his younger brother, Darius, had begun work as an apprentice as a Governing Wizard in Bismarck. Everyone had their place in Fargo. Everyone, that is, except Arterius.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nArterius had gone longer than anyone in Fargo could remember without finding his domain. His parents had even taken him to the State Domain Hall, complete with a large collection of items and tools meant to spark his domain to life. Nothing. He heard the whispers around town. No-Domain, Domainless, No-main. Gary, the Insult Wizard, was too kindhearted to help them find an actual good insult for him, but the growing pressure of not finding his calling weighed on him.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nArterius rounded the corner to Pizza Supreme and groaned. The restaurant's lights were out, and something was taped to the door. He trudged over and read it in the faint light. \"Wiring Wizard on vacation. Should be up and running next week!\" Arterius grumbled and looked around. He saw light wash out into the street from another store front two blocks down. Was that the other pizza place in town, the new one? He had heard mixed things about their wares. The owner, a transplant from Grand Forks, wasn't a Pizza Wizard, but a Cheese Wizard with a dairy byproduct to die for. It was just that the rest of the pizza didn't hold up to the delectable standards of Mary and the Pizza Supreme's specialty- just the Cheese. Glancing up at the dark sky and continual snow, Arterius decided it was worth the risk and continued his trek a few more blocks.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nPizza A-More wasn't the usual pizza place, on account of the owner's domain. It was a dairy store by day, and moonlighted as a pizzeria come evening. Arterius had never been inside- his cousin the Dairy Wizard provided cheese, milk and the like for the whole family. It was well lit, and a single portly man sat inside behind a tall counter. Seeing Arterius coming, he smiled widely and ushered him inside. Despite Arterius' cantankerous mood, he jovially took the order and bustled to the back to begin his craft. Arterius took a seat in one of the booths and glanced around the shop, bored. And that's when he saw it.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nIt was a shiny thing, maybe a foot wide and two feet deep. It had four legs, and a main body with a slanted glass screen. Lights flickered across its face, and various quiet sounds emitted from hidden speakers. Characters from some movie plastered its side, and a screen near the top listed large, orange numbers and a few letters. There was a thrumming in Arterius' chest, almost a vibration. Entranced, he walked over to the machine. Upon closer inspection, there were buttons on the side, which when pressed moved some levers behind the glass screen. A plunger at the front didn't seem to do anything. A message flashed on the screen: \"$0.25 to Play!\" Arterius fumbled in his pocket and procured a quarter. He found the slot, and upon depositing a quarter, a small silver ball appeared on the plunger. This time pulling the plunger shot the silver ball up and into the machine.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nIt was a dizzy array of buzzers and bells. The flashing lights were only a distraction, as Arterius moved the ball along the levers, off the bumpers, and the orange number at the top of the screen continued to climb. He felt rooted in place, shifting only slightly to get a better view of where to send the ball next. It wasn't really any question or decision, just a continual set of declarations of where the ball should go next, and the ball obeyed. Occasionally the ball slipped beneath the levers, but enough points had been accrued that a new one would appear.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nAll of the sudden, the machine locked up, and the ball slid once more past the levers. Arterius snarled and glanced up. The orange numbers were flashing, \"999,999,999,999\" and a blinking box appeared next to them. He glanced around. Sunlight was drifting through the store window. Arterius' mother was there, surgical smock still on. Tears streamed down her face, and she was smiling. The Cheese Wizard was smiling too, a few extra pizzas out on the counter. More of the family would be there soon, Arterius realized. His family would be celebrating him coming into his own.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nHe bumped one of the levers, and the letter A appeared. Bumping it again changed it to a B. Twenty five more bumps returned the A, and the other bumper made a 2nd A appear. Smiling, he fiddled the bumpers until \"ART\" appeared on the screen.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,882	9,935	0.009586	1,337	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "\"A superhero fights crime as a part of a team, apparently with the ability to hit his target perfectly with whatever weapon he shoots or throws on the first try. In reality, he has terrible aim, and his actual power is to stop time. He goes through extraordinary efforts to maintain his secret.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I had time to think about a thousand variations of the hummingbird's beating wings. It was going to be close. I tweaked it just slightly one more time. The bullet would have about a hundredth of a second to slip under the bird and - if my calculations were correct - dip a fraction of a centimetre and begin its downward arc. My eyes followed its trajectory towards the control panel and the glowing numbers on it. It would stop with just a single second left. \n\nI glanced back towards the entrance of the greenhouse at Lighting and Dynami. They would be just behind me in the open door. My bullet would hit its target before they even knew what was happening. Take that, fastest man alive, I thought.\n\nMy eyes returned to the frozen hummingbird. Sometimes I wished I had never gone to check out the lab that night. My life had been pretty exciting before this, and I'd enjoyed working the beat as a local cop. The kids recognized me, the regulars respected me, and I could relax after work with a beer. Time had flowed, and I had flowed with it. Nowadays, it had a way of dragging on. Time was slow when you grew too familiar with its moments. Though I was more patient these days.\n\nThe bird's feathers were somehow the colours of an iridescent rainbow. Idly, I wondered if I ought to go look up which species it was in the library across town. But no, I should probably make sure I can stop the explosion. It had taken ages to align everything properly to stop the Gardener's plot perfectly with a single second left. Tiny tweaks over the last twelve hours, making sure they took the exact amount of time to get here at the critical moment. I'd found the greenhouse a few hours ago in real time. \n\nThe Gardener, I knew, was running out the back entrance, and I wandered between the plants considering how best to stop him. I examined his fearful face under the sun's light. He looked far less confident than the last time I had seen him. Maybe he was regretting his decision. Maybe I would let Lightning take him out. He was pretty soft on crime.\n\nReturning to the front entrance, I began one final trajectory calculation. My satchel was lined with paper pads that were usually filled with the complex mathematics that helped every shot hit its target. Unfortunately, electronics didn't work when time was frozen, which seemed a reasonable trade-off. I put the pencil down and looked at the hummingbird again. Its feather were beautiful. It seemed peaceful as it floated above the petals of a succulent looking flower. I took a breath and changed position slightly to avoid the cloud of carbon dioxide I was creating, then returned to my work. The hours passed easily enough, as I was an old friend with the scratching of my pencil on the page. \n\nAgain, everything looked like it was correct. I hid the paper back in my satchel, and placed the knives, guns, and explosives on top of them. I walked back to the entrance and took my place in front of Lightning and Dynami. Her eyes were lit with that fearsome energy that always took her in these moments.\n\nHer finely sculpted features were drawn, tight with excitement, as we burst through the door. I believed she was some Greek demigod or some such, but the library didn't have much information about her people. They'd been hidden in some other plane, apparently. I tried talking with her about it, but it had turned into a long story so I had just done my own research. It was hard filling the time between calamities. I much preferred when villains were plentiful, quick, and dangerous. When things could change in an instant, it was almost fast enough for me.\n\nMaybe I should talk with Dynami more in real time. It had been a long time since I had dated anyone. How long ago? It must have been that girl I'd known in my old neighbourhood. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out how many years ago that had been. I frowned. It hadn't been that long ago I knew, but it seemed like forever. I almost considered trying to find a nearby calendar, but I decided I wanted to see the look on Lightning's face when he burst in at supersonic speed to see my bullet stop the countdown. \n\nI extended my arm and aligned the gun with the bullet I had just fired. \n\nA second passed.\n\nI walked out into the greenhouse where Lightning was frozen. The control panel was a mess of sparks and wires. His face was distorted with disappointment and excitement. Ah, this was even better than the time they'd stopped Dr. Cold. I took out a pad of paper and began sketching it.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,610	9,924	0.034281	1,463	[ { "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 dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The man sat cross-legged on a wide tree stump in the middle of the clearing. Wind whipped at his long beard and passed gently over his bald head. He felt the energy of his breath as he meditated--in--out--in--out. The sounds of the forest surrounding the clearing were plenty, and he was aware of them all, but they did not disrupt his tranquility. He let each one pass through him as easily as the breeze, until one drew his focus abruptly away from his breathing.\n\n\"Greetings.\"\n\nThe man's eyes snapped open and he spun on the stump, thrusting himself off and flipping backwards away from the source of the sound--the first voice he'd heard in many decades. Assessing his surroundings, searching for the owner of the voice but finding no one.\n\n\"Ahh, you're a sharp one. Quite in tune; body and mind, I see.\"\n\nHe spun again, sliding his foot around in the dirt and swinging a fist at exactly the point the voice had rang out from, but his blow did not make contact and the momentum took him nearly off of his feat. Confused, he bent at his knees and scanned the clearing--focusing back on his breath and doing his best to calm it. \n\n\"Frightened? Or just surprised? You must have been alone out here for some time now...\"\n\nThe voice seemed to originate from directly behind him once again, but he did not budge, and it echoed all around him in his stillness. He continued to scan slowly, his hands raised defensively. \n\n\"Come now, you must still recall how to converse with another rational being. Where are your manners?\"\n\nHis muscled relaxed and he felt the energy of his breath flowingly soothingly through him. This phantom clearly couldn't be seen, so he narrowed his senses and closed his eyes. \n\n\"You may soon wish you had taken the chance to speak, for this was your last. I'm afraid.\"\n\nAn unsettling presence was directly in front of him, he could feel it. The darkness inside his eyelids seemed to grow ever blacker as he felt the force slowly inch towards him, its presence was commanding, and the world around him seem to be compressing. He refocused--in--out--in--out. A sound like a needle piercing through the very fabric of space and time rang out, and in the darkness he could clearly see a dagger being thrust towards his heart. With eyes still closed he clapped his hands in front of him. Trapping the spectral blade in between his palms, the momentum causing him to slide back a few feet in the dirt--he didn't dare open his eyes.\n\n\"Fascinating...\" The voice called out and he knew it came from the wielder of the invisible dagger that was still held firmly in his grip. \"I have not met a soul like you in ages, my friend, and certainly not one still of the physical realm.\"\n\nA form was beginning to take shape in front of him, blending into the darkness but certainly its own independent shape. In--out--in--out. \n\n\"Release the dagger. You will not be harmed; you have my word.\"\n\nThe phantom's words seemed to take a shape of their own, and the man felt instantly that they could be trusted--as if this entity was incapable of falsehoods. He let his hands fall slowly to his side, and the dagger retreated into the dark figure camouflaged in the blackness. \n\n\"You have been in isolation long enough that you are no longer present in any rational being's memory. A milestone usually reached well after departing from the physical realm; death and time always erase the memory of life, and when the memory of a soul has finally lapsed from existence then that soul meets the True Reaper, *me.\" \n\nThe stillness in the air was unsettling, and the sounds of the forest were now absent as if the world itself had vanished. He remained calm, focusing on his breath and the words of his new acquaintance. \n\n\"Most pass without a fuss, the dagger is rarely necessary, but I could feel your energy when it called to be reaped--you are different. Your isolation has brought you a mental tranquility that is unmatched by any soul I've encountered in the physical realm, and this is allowing you to act in the realm of true existence.\"\n\nHis breaths were shorter now, sharper, and he felt as if he was breathing in the very darkness he was perceiving; his focus unwavering. \n\n\"Your existence is unique, and I do not discard treasures like you with the rest of the trash...\"\n\nHe was breathing in a rapid cadence now, and with each breath he felt an enormous amount of energy flow into him; as if he was inhaling the sun itself. \n\n\"Welcome, my friend, to life after life...\"\n\nr/BeagleTales\n\n~~Part 2 coming later tonight for those interested!*~~\n\n[Part 2 is now available!](https://www.reddit.com/r/BeagleTales/comments/8j2di2/wp_everyone_dies_twice_the_first_time_is_when/)\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,392	9,921	0.05438	1,537	[ { "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 several thousand years, the Greek gods awaken in the in the mid 1940’s. When the gods meet up to discuss what they had learned of the modern world, Ares walks into the room with a hollow and horrified look in his eyes, the day is August 6th, 1945.(Hiroshima)", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/e65g09/ares_part_2/) is up!\n\nOnly Ares had yet to return to the Gallery of the Gods. There, the others feasted and downed jugs of mead and sent lightning bolts careening across the sky. Zeus' laughter thundered and Dionysus poured the table another flask. \n\nThen the clouds parted and the sunlight shimmered and the last of the family entered. Ares, eyes hollow and face horrified. A thousand-yard stare, as the mortals might say. \n\n\"Join us, brother,\" Aphrodite cooed, hoisting a jug towards him and batting her eyes. They were jovial, the lot of them, apart from the God of War who had just joined them. Unusually jovial, given the conflicts that plagued their fickle relationships.\n\nHe shook his head and stomped an armored boot. The harpists fell silent and the laughter died down. Eyes turned towards him, awaiting what destruction his words might wreak upon the fragile peace. \n\n\"We've brought about the end of times,\" he said simply, and then he collapsed into a chair dutifully pushed behind him. Together, Aphrodite and Artemis rushed to his side. Zeus stared cynically, and then he chuckled darkly. \n\n\"End of times, boy?\" he growled. \"Explain yourself, before we send you the way of the bastards.\" The cursed bastards, he didn't need to say. Sisyphus and his kind with tasks befitting the cursed. \"The end of times for us, or the end of times for...\" Zeus nodded towards the mortal world, and when Ares took a moment to respond he finally furrowed his brow and stroked his flowing white beard.\n\nAres shrugged to a cacophony of armor scraping on armor. \"Both, I figure,\" he remarked. \"Men will bring about the end of men.\"\n\n\"As the Oracle has told them,\" Hermes snarked. Ares shot him a dark glare and the impish god fell silent. \n\n\"They will also bring about the end of us,\" Ares finished. A gloved hand made a sweeping gesture that encompassed every single one of them in the room. \n\n\"How so?\" Zeus asked. He seemed amused still, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he humored Ares' musings. \n\nAgain Ares shrugged, and Aphrodite flinched at the sound and moved away. \"Something,\" Ares said vaguely. \"A whole city - larger than Athens, Sparta, both together even - wiped out in a moment.\"\n\nNow Zeus leaned forwards, brushing away the women clinging to his bulging arms. \"A whole city?\" he asked. Only a wayward lightning bolt dispatched by his own hand would have that power. But each time he threw one, he caught it, at least on this day. Ares nodded and Zeus stood. Crumbs from the feast fell from his lap. The others backed away, wary of his wrath. \"Show me,\" he growled.\n\nThe festivities didn't pick up again when the clouds closed behind Zeus and Ares. Instead, the suddenly apprehensive gods stared at each other in concern, guessing how long it would be before the demise began. Or perhaps it had already begun and unbeknownst to them their absence had heralded an age when gods no longer wielded more power than mortals.\n\n\"Utter devastation,\" Ares said simply when they stepped down into the wreckage of the city. The remnants of an island empire, not unlike that which had ruled over the Aegean Islands long ago. \n\nZeus looked around in awe. \"Flatter than Hera's br-\" He paused when he remembered his company. Ares said nothing in response, but toed a piece of wreckage to reveal the limbs of a dozen dead. \"Mortals did this,\" Zeus remarked. It was as much a question as it was a statement. \n\n\"Mortals did this,\" Ares confirmed. He stared at the king of the gods, seeking his guidance but knowing it was beyond the both of them. \n\n\"But,\" Zeus interrupted, ever the optimist if optimism was paired with laziness, \"what they have done in three thousand years, I can do in a moment.\" He nodded towards his lightning bolt but Ares shook his head. \n\n\"Come,\" he directed, leading Zeus past the epicenter of the destruction. Further out, flattened buildings took shape again and signs of life stirred. A stream of injured marched by, large sloughs of skin falling off their bodies. Their eyes were empty and some dropped as they walked. Emaciated corpses, stumbling as they evacuated. \n\n\"You can do that,\" Ares acknowledged, pointing back towards the flattened part of the city. Then he gestured at the rotting living, and at the way flecks of his own skin peeled off and fluttered to the ground. \"But they can do this.\"\n\n[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/e65g09/ares_part_2/) is up!\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" } ]
2,525	9,919	0.006413	1,717	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I have no idea what I’m doing here. Is this my sixth grade English class? I look down at my copy of Number the Stars. That was one of the mandatory reading books I actually enjoyed. I feel hot tears on my checks and I’m crying.\n\n“What’s wrong now Michelle?” The teacher barks at me. The rudeness startles me. Who gets angry at a crying child?\n\n“Uh…Can I go to the bathroom…uh... Miss?” I didn’t even remember this teacher, let alone her name. I don’t know why I asked that, but it’ll be easier to figure out what’s going in private than surrounded by a bunch of kids. \n\n“For heaven’s sake Michelle, you’ve used all your bathroom passes for this semester. No, you may not, and my name is not Miss, its Miss Mitchell.” I vaguely remember Miss Mitchell now, or rather the inane rules that made no sense.\n\n“I think I just started my period.” This gets giggles from my classmates. This is the year we had that awkward “puberty” pep rally. The period excuse always worked my creepy high school gym teachers, hopefully it will work now. Miss Mitchell frowns even harder, and I see the obvious signs of debate on her face. She doesn’t want me to leave the room, but she also knew it was unhygienic if I really did start my period. She finally sighs, and points to the door.\n\nI don’t really remember my middle school days, so it takes me a few minutes to actually find the bathroom. I splash water on my face, and the unsettling realization of what being back here means hits me. I’m not really sure what to do, and then Laura walks in. \nI couldn’t stand this bitch in school. I instinctively brace myself for cutting words. \n\n“What a loser, crying in the bathroom! What happened, you lose your teddy bear?” She taunts.\n\nI rack my brains trying to think about what happens to her, what her adult life is like. She wasn’t in high school, which I remember more than middle school. She wasn’t in eighth grade, when we went on a class camping trip. And she wasn’t there for the 7th grade field trip to the movies where I spilled my popcorn over half the class. Then it hits me. The announcement in homeroom, the memorial service, the uneasiness we all felt for weeks. I had blocked it out, it was too much to process at the time, and too painful to dwell on when I grew up. \n\n“Do you want to be friends?” I ask her abruptly. Laura’s eyes go wide.\n\n“Do you want to be friends?” I repeat again. “You live on Laurel, right? I’m the next street over on Birch. Do you want to walk home together, and stay for dinner?” I have to keep her out of her house. It happened in April, and I think its April now. The bell rings, and Laura walks out.\n\nI follow, and bump into Thomas. I smile, we had every single English class together throughout middle school and high school. He stands there, staring at his shoes. I had forgotten, he is still 11 and periods are not something to talk about. I’m touched he was even waiting for me by the bathroom. \n\n“I guess I’ll go eat lunch” he finally stammers to his toes. I burst out laughing, and follow. “We’re eating with Laura.” I announce decidedly and follow him to the cafeteria. I’m glad I have someone who knows what to do, because I don’t remember the day to day stuff. I have forgotten my lunch account pin, garnering an eye roll from the lunch lady as she looks it up. Why are all the school workers rude? \n\nLaura glares as Thomas and I sit down to eat with her, but by the end of the lunch period she has softened a bit.\n\nAfter 7th period Laura grabs me coming out of Social Studies and we start the walk home. \n\n“I’ll stay to help you with your math homework and then I’m leaving” Laura spits out. \n\n“Great! I suck at Math.” She already knew that, everyone knew that. Maybe if I’m stuck redoing everything, I’ll actually try in Math class. Maybe if I do a bit better, I won’t have crippling student loans in the future. Maybe I could focus on Math and Science, and instead of a near useless liberal arts degree I could get a degree with higher paying job prospects. This might not be so bad. \n\n“Anyways,” I continue on, “Its Friday! So, it’s lasagna night! If you stay, its one less piece I have to eat for leftovers all weekend long. My mom makes the biggest lasagna you’ll ever see, and then that’s the only thing besides cereal we eat over the weekend.” I had forgotten this tidbit, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. We walk the rest of the way in silence. \n\nWe get set up in the living room, and by the time dinner is ready Laura has helped me to finish my math homework, and I’ve fixed her Social Studies and English homework. We’re laughing like old friends, and when mom yells “lasagna’s ready” Laura exclaims it’s her favorite meal and scampers after me to the dining room. By the time dinner is over, she’s agreed to spend the night, and we’ve picked out four movies to stay up watching. \n\nI’ve forgotten why I originally invited Laura over until I hear the doorbell ring the next morning. Mom answers, and it’s the police. My gut clenches. \n\n“Sorry for the early visit, ma’am. We are looking for Laura Smith. The principal said he saw Laura and Michelle walking home together, and we need to account for her whereabouts.” Mom ushers the officer into the kitchen, and the conversation is mumbled. The officer takes Laura away, and my mom tells me what I already know. \n\nLaura’s father has had some mental issues for a while now. It’s probably why Laura was always pushing everyone around. In a fit of overwhelming depression, he decided the only way out was to kill his family and himself. I don’t know if I could have prevented her parents’ deaths, but Laura was saved by that sleepover.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,848	9,919	0.01872	1,210	[ { "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 7 minutes before your alarm, as you head down the hallway you notice everything is a low rendered wireframe version of your house interior. You hear scurrying and a voice whisper “commence quick launch simulation world 63,239,430 we have an unscheduled early rise here”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The facts: You have woken earlier than usual, nervous about an upcoming exam. Only a couple of minutes early, but it seems to have made a big difference, because your bedroom doesn't look quite right. It's more like a wireframed replica of your bedroom -- unfinished and untextured. It's causing you slight concern.\n\nThe theory: Either the weed you smoked last night is remarkably long lasting and powerful, or the wireframe is a result of us (and our universe) being part of a simulation. \n\nSimulation theory is likely to be true because if just one species/society (our own, for example) grew to a conceivably advanced state (not far above where ours is right now, for example) we would have sufficient computing power to run millions of simulations at a time. \n\nThe society running the simulations would have the ability to explore history, evolution, and all possible future trajectories (billions upon billions of possible futures, each different by only a single slightly differing variable). These simulations would provide both an eye into the past and into the far future. \n\nIf a society were capable of these simulations, then they would certainly run them -- this is a given. As such, the populations inside simulations should be exponentially larger than the populations outside of them. Your odds of being inside a simulation, therefore, are almost certain.\n\nHow to prove we are inside a simulation: It seems you already did. They didn't catch you napping; you caught them. The wireframed room you are seeing is itself a glitch inside the simulation, or else the simulation failed to boot fully by the time you regained consciousness. \n\nIssue with any theoretical solution to prove simulation theory: It could be impossible to prove we are inside of a simulation even if we find a billion glitches or mistakes. Why? Because whatever or whoever is running the simulation can simply rewind time to before the glitch was discovered and fix the glitch without you (the new you) ever knowing about it. Glitches might be discovered all the time but nobody who sees them remembers seeing them.\n\nConclusion: Let's review facts: You found a glitch by waking up too early this morning. You were not meant to see a glitch, because knowing you are inside a simulation (by finding a glitch) defeats the purpose of the simulation. You would not act how you otherwise would.\n\nIf you are in a simulation, which it appears you must be, time can be rewound in order to fix the glitch. However, there is a second option: people running this simulation might simply run a line of code that wipes you from it, removing your every trace. In essence, you will never have existed (in reality or in the simulation).\n\nAdvice going forward: If time is about to be rewound and the glitch fixed, then there is no point worrying about anything. You will soon resume your morning, as of five minutes ago, without the wireframe mess being visible. In a way, it's a second chance.\n\nIf you are to be erased, then you might find a modicum of comfort by (right now, prior to being erased) thinking fondly of those you thought you loved. \n\nYou might find further comfort in the fact that neither they nor you ever actually existed. Especially not you.\n\nOr, finally, if this is nothing to do with simulation theory at all, and this whole line of thought was just a strange quasi-philosophical ramble caused by last night's weed and your own inner turmoil, then it might be prudent to-\n\n---\n\nThe facts: You have woken up earlier than usual, nervous about an upcoming exam. You have a thumping headache and really shouldn't have smoked so much last night. What you wish you'd done is revised, instead. \n\nShit, you think. Shit. You're going to fail. And you're right to think that. You wish exams didn't matter. That reality didn't. But you know it does. Regardless, you decide reality can at least wait. You turn off your alarm, pull the covers back over your head, and go back to sleep.\n\n\n---\n\n/r/nickofstatic", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,767	9,903	0.021552	1,324	[ { "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 college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“That can’t possibly be right.”\n\n“It is,” Charlie states, lips drawn into a thin grimace. His eyes are cold. Colder than I’ve ever seen - colder than I’d ever expect from this failing, constantly-distracted young man. “I need this course, to stay enrolled, Mr. Hargreave. I’ve got no other options.” He extends a sword to me, hilt first.\n\n“You can’t just come in with a set of rules from six hundred years ago and expect to pass. Or expect me to actually fight you. I’m sixty years old, and I’ve never touched a weapon in my life.” Technically, those are lies, but he doesn’t need to know that.\n\n“The rules are the rules, Mr. Hargreave. You’ve always said that to me, haven’t you? If you turn me down, I win by default.”\n\nHe waits in the hallway while I pull a dusty tome from the top shelf - I check. He’s right. You’d think that would have been amended by now. Well.\n\n“Fine,” I say. Chances are, he’s never held a weapon before. And it’s been a while since I’ve had this much excitement.\n\nSee, I know the rule he’s talking about well, even if I hadn’t expected it to still be in existence. I was there when it was written.\n\nI’ve changed my face and changed my identity over the years, but I keep coming back to this university - the place where I first gained my power, the place where I turned from a young man into something… more. It’s dear to me. And its traditions, too, are dear to me. Some part of me respects the young man for going this far.\n\n“The courtyard,” I say. “There’s a special place for duels of this kind.”\n\nHe follows me out of the building, and I take one of the swords. The balance is perfect, and the grip is familiar. Memories from centuries past flood my mind, from that age before I was a professor and an academic. From the age when I was an explorer. \n\nWe take our positions at opposite ends of the square, to a growing crowd and no small amount of murmuring from bored university students. \n\n“Begin,” I say, eyeing my student’s slouching posture, his unfamiliar grip on the sword.\n\nAnd he changes. Not physically, of course - not like I can - but his posture changes. His grip changes. His feet settle into a firm, steady position that will allow him stability and movement. He lunges at me, and it’s all I can do to parry.\n\nThe world becomes a blur, the students around us become nothing in my mind’s eye. We dance around the square, blades flickering like tongues of silver flame.\n\nParry. Parry. Riposte. Thrust. Dodge. \n\nHe’s good. He’s way better than he should be - he’s faster than the lazy, constantly tired persona he puts on in class would suggest. He could have had a scholarship to any top university based on fencing alone. \n\nAnd as he parries another thrust, I realize - he could have been a master swordsman back in the days of my youth.\n\nParry. Parry. I twist and disarm him with one swift movement, then thrust forward - my blade stops at his neck.\n\n“It’s to first blood, Professor,” he says.\n\nI nick him. A single droplet runs down my steel.\n\n“You lose,” I say, panting hard.\n\n“Worth it,” he says. “I wanted to see you in action,” he adds, lowering his voice. “I’ve… heard things.”\n\n“Oh?”\n\n“…I guess you could say I’m looking to become your student,” he says. “For real.”\n\nHe’s better than he has any right to be. He clearly knows more about my past than anyone else does, for some reason. And he reminds me… he reminds me of me. Centuries ago. “Yes,” I say, without having to think about it. \n\nHe nods, and collects the swords, moving to head off.\n\n“And Charles?” I say. He stops and turns.\n\n“Yes, Professor?”\n\n“Come by my office tomorrow afternoon. We’ll see what we can do about extra credit. Can’t have you failing out of the university, can we?”\n\nHe smiles.\n\n---\n\nLike this story? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords for more.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,305	9,899	0.275741	1,409	[ { "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 novice demon who managed to convice a mother to give up her first born in exchange for eternal youth. You did so, because it seems like the kind of thing all the other demons are doing, but now you are not sure what you are supposed to do with an infant and it's way too late to ask.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Oh for the love of Satan, will you be QUIET!\" Thordak screamed at the wailing baby, the lights in his cavern dimming as he rages at the little monstrosity. He really hadn't thought this through. Just what in the nine circles of hell was he supposed to do with this screeching thing.\n\nThe deal had been straightforward enough. He'd wooed Jessica with a few kind words and a simple veil, promising her the two things she wanted most. He gave her eternal youth and the means to enjoy it without having to care for this twice-damned infant. But while Thordak was pretty sure this was exactly the sort of deal he was supposed to make as an Apprentice, 1st Level, he had no clue what to do now. The Guide to Demonology and The Demon-Hunter Hunter's Handbook were decidedly quiet on the subject.\n\n\"Vassago! Vassago, you've got to help me,\" Thordak shouts, rattling a set of human ribs over the bawling child as he taps into the ether. \"I finally did my first deal.\"\n\n\"What do you want, a medal? Congratulations Thordak, but get back out there and keep collecting souls. The Boss doesn't give out a pat on the back for one miserable human soul, and neither do I.\"\n\n\"I didn't trade for her soul,\" Thordak growls, the room shaking slightly as the young demon tries to contain his rage. \"I traded for her firstborn.\" The line goes silent for a second until Thordak reaches down, placing his claws gently over the fragile little monster's head, connecting his wails to Vassago. \"See? What do I now? Vassago?\" Thordak asks as the silence stretches out for a few beats.\n\n\"Playing the long-game right out of the gate, I see. You're either relentlessly stupid or recklessly ambitious. Either way, resist the urge to do anything at all until I get there. There are several steps you'll need to take right away and more to follow, but if you do this right, it'll be worth it.\" With that, Vassago severs the line.\n\n\\\\\\About 18 years later\\\\\\*\n\n\"Miss Reynolds? Hi, my name is Simon. I'm with the Sons of Fallen Angels, would you be willing to spare a few minutes of your time?\"\n\nA bleary-eyed woman stares back at the smiling young man, her eyes roaming over the strange robes and the tome under his arm. \"Not interested,\" she says gruffly, making as if to shut the door in his face.\n\nSimon puts his foot in the door, the smile growing a fraction wider. \"It'll only take a minute,\" he promises. \"What's a minute when you've got all eternity?\"\n\nJessica's eyes go wide as the shock overpowers the better part of her hangover. Unwittingly she starts backing up, putting up her hands in terror until she trips on an old vodka bottle and goes crashing to the floor. Simon just tilts his head to the side in a look of disappointment, glancing back behind him before walking in after her and shutting the door.\n\n\"She must think he's there to kill her or something,\" Vassago chuckles from the sidewalk, shimmering invisibly in the air like heat rising from sun-soaked pavement.\n\n\"Maybe he should,\" Thordak growls from beside him, looking on with intense concentration. \"Better yet, she should do it herself and save him the trouble.\"\n\n\"Take it easy Thordak, you know how this works. Well,\" Vassago snorts, \"you didn't, but now you do. Every day she spends in that eternally youthful body you've given her is another day her soul ripens. And with young Simon in there giving her something to think about, she's going to have one sweet* soul. The Boss might even stop in for a taste when that one comes down.\"\n\n\"I still think he's too young. He's only mastered half the summoning rituals and we interrupted his studies for this filth,\" he says, gesturing to the doorway.\n\nVassago only raises an eyebrow as he glances over at his apprentice. \"You know as well as I do that most of our young cultists can barely master a single ritual or two before entering University, and we're lucky if they manage some of the others passably well. Relax. Shouldn't be long now,\" Vassago says just in time to see the door open back up.\n\nSimon walks out with determination, his head held high as Thordak breathes a sigh of relief. \"Come on, let's just get back to the Abyss before one of these surface-dwellers can rub off on us.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,706	9,895	0.004027	1,754	[ { "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 police officer who has just arrested a scam artist for selling \"elixirs of immortality\". However, you discovered that his criminal records states that he was also arrested for the same crime in 1862.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I looked at him sitting across the table, wondering. Did he really expect me to believe that?\n\n\"Look Officer Jones, I wasn't doing anything illegal.\"\n\n\"You were scamming people!\"\n\n\"Have you received any complaints? Any of my customers who have come to the police and said they were cheated?\"\n\n\"That's the clever thing about your scam isn't it. You promise immortality. Something they can't really prove they don't have unless they die. And once they're dead, who's going to complain.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Good point. Oh, by the way, I know about the tumour.\"\n\nI felt my head spin. Even my wife didn't know anything about it yet. \"Who told you?\"\n\n\"Nobody. I've been around death often enough that I can see the black mark.\"\n\n\"What black mark?\"\n\n\"You can't see it, officer. I can. How long do you have?\"\n\nI struggled to keep my emotions in check. It took all of my strength. \"I'm sure you do. Who told you? You know that sharing anyone's medical history is unethical, if not illegal.\"\n\n\"No one told me. I told you...\"\n\nThere was a knock at the door. I got up and opened the door. Officer Smart stood there with a file in hand, pale as a ghost.\n\n\"What's up Marcus?\"\n\nHe handed me the file. \"It's... I don't know. Has to be a mistake.\"\n\nI closed the door and took the file to the viewing room. A massive one way mirror separated me from my prisoner, Mr Solomon Burtonwood, aged 270, according to him.\n\nI opened the file and saw an arrest record from almost fifty years ago. Weird. He didn't look that old. I kept going through the file till I found what had shocked Marcus. A hand written record, from 1862. Solomon Burtonwood. It didn't have a picture, but it did have a description, including a particular scar under the right eye. \n\nI raised my eyes to the mirror and almost dropped the file as I saw him looking directly at me, the scar clearly visible. He smiled. It was impossible. All of it. He couldn't see me. He shouldn't be able to see me. But his eyes seemed to follow me as I went back to the interrogation room.\n\n\"Impressive file you have here.\" I tried to keep my voice steady.\n\n\"Let's drop the act, shall we. I went through the same rigmarole a few decades ago too. I know you saw my first arrest record. The problem is that you guys are so set in your thinking that you find it difficult to believe something. And if reality doesn't agree with your thinking, you reject the reality. Tell me Tom, how's that working for you?\"\n\nHe brought his face closer to me as I shrank back. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I had control. I was supposed to be in charge.\n\n\"Tell me Officer Tom Jones, how has reality been treating you. You know you don't have a chance. What do you have to lose. My prices are really reasonable you know.\"\n\n\"What... what will it cost?\"\n\n\"Two dollars.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Two dollars. Coins, preferably. A strand of your hair for me to generate the potion. And you need to verbally allow me to extend your life.\"\n\n\"Why verbally?\"\n\n\"Cause papers degrade. They get lost. They get torn. They fade. Words once said aloud are always here. Forever.\"\n\n\"And you're offering immortality. For two dollars?\"\n\n\"Well, there's no such thing as immortality you see. That's just a catchy title. I offer people time. You're dying. I'll extend your life. I'll give you fifteen years more. That means you get to live up to 44.\"\n\n\"What's the catch?\"\n\n\"No catch. Honest is my middle name. Oh, wait. There is one more thing though. You can process me, but I'd prefer not to go to prison. I AM almost 300 years old you know.\"\n\nThat was fifteen years ago. He visited me at my house, the day I turned 44. Life was good. His elixir had made my tumours disappear. A miracle, my doctor had said. I had lived a nice and fulfilling life. \n\nI turned around, expecting him to follow me in.\n\n\"You have to invite me in.\"\n\n\"Are you a vampire?\"\n\n\"Do I look like one?\"\n\n\"No. But then you also don't look like you're over 280 years old.\"\n\n\"Humour me.\"\n\n\"Please come into my home.\"\n\nHe smiled and came in. Once again, we sat across from each other.\n\nWe just stared silently at each other for five minutes. Finally he broke the silence.\n\n\"It's time.\"\n\n\"There's no chance of an extension?\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, no.\"\n\n\"It's OK. I have made my peace with it. Had to just try one time.\"\n\n\"I don't blame you. Most people try to fight me or run away.\"\n\n\"Does it work?\"\n\n\"You can't outrun death.\"\n\nI looked at him as if he had said something profound. He hadn't of course. At least I couldn't figure out if he had.\n\n\"How will it happen?\"\n\n\"Drink this.\"\n\nHe handed me an elixir, similar to one I had drunk years ago.\n\nMy eyes turned watery as I blinked to try and clear my vision. It cleared and I saw myself sitting across from me.\n\n\"What is this?\"\n\n\"You see, I wasn't lying. True immortality is not possible. Trust me, I've tried. I found the next best thing though. Possession.\"\n\nI looked at my hands. Only, they weren't my hands. They belonged to someone much older than me. They were wrinkled and weak. \n\n\"What did you do to me?\"\n\n\"What I gave you was an elixir of immortality. But not yours, mine. You've had fifteen years. Now I'll take the next thirty.\"\n\nI felt weak, too old to even move. I saw a scar appear on my... his face.\n\nI closed my eyes, and darkness overtook me.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,844	9,894	0.03491	1,960	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "In orbit of the third rock from the star, there is a beacon. It is ancient, and it is broadcasting a message. Anyone who gets close to the world hears the message, and heeds it's warning. It was placed there long ago. Ages and ages ago. So that none may repeat the mistakes of those who placed it there. Every race that finds the beacon, updates it with all the languages they know, as the beacon asks. So that no matter who comes, it can warn them. In this aspect, it is a simple machine. All it wants, all it is built for, is to tell the warning.\n\nThis is the warning. Land not on this world, for it is cursed. In the Age of the Vermilion Dynasty of the Empire of A Billion Stars, in the 143rd year of the Teh'Koh'Nahk Empress' reign, we landed on this world, and found it to be a perfect paradise garden world. Beautiful edible fruits were hanging on trees, the wildlife was friendly and cute, and the weather was amazing. We thought we had found a little island paradise in the Celestial Ocean of Stars.\n\nAnd for a time, it was paradise. We built our first settlements on the mild coasts of the western tip of the largest continent. And while the planet did not seem to have easily accessible materials, it was fertile, and an excellent option for an agrarian planet. But as we spread out, building and inviting in more of our people to settle there, things started to go wrong. Supplies were misplaced, the woodlands we had cut down to make way for cash-crops were strangely infertile, and every once in a while, it seemed that outlying homesteads just vanished with no explanation for where they had gone.\n\nSoon, people were scared of going outside of the settlements. But our woes had only just started. Some of us had struck out to the elongated continent, which thins in the middle, figuring that perhaps we'd have greater luck there. But when we got worried and sent out shuttles to scout out their settlement site, all we found was an empty village. And something strange. In the middle of the settlement was a strange sound system, connected to a single button. When pressed, the sound system let out a weak voice, from one of the missing colonists. They said two words that didn't make any sense. ''Croatoan. Roanoke.''\n\nWe never found any trace of the adults, but a scouting team found the children, walking confusedly around in a large meadow nearby. We took them with us back to our first settlement.\n\nThings only went worse from there. We found one of the outlying villages had died out from what the surviving children described as excessive and unwilling dancing. Till the adults dropped dead from exhaustion. We had the corpses brought back with us, and found to our distress that they each had a small implant of unknown origin attached to their motion centers in their brains. Forcing them to continually move until death, or some sort of unknown criteria was reached.\n\nAnd that was when we started to see them. Shining orbs, like small stars, floating in the forests and the wilderness. They would fly away if we came close, but every time we left our larger settlements, they would follow from a distance. Never getting close, but always present. And that was when the land started to change. The formerly friendly local wildlife became hostile, avoiding us or attacking us if we got close. The once delicious and beautiful local flora, became poisonous, making the eaters extremely sick from even touching it.\n\nAnd the lights, mysterious and hostile, became ever more numerous, and soon they started to play music. Ominous music, loud and terrifying, like something with too many teeth and a thirst for blood was lusting for your flesh. Other ones allowed you to get close, but then you'd get horrible burns from them. The weather itself became unsuitable for farming, the seas became turbulent and violent.\n\nIt was like the planet itself was turning on us. And that thought wasn't far from the truth.\n\nWe learned the terrible truth when somebody we thought long dead came stumbling into town, followed by the orbs of burning light. Our friend had so many cybernetic enhancements into him, he was barely recognisable as alive. When he spoke, the orbs glowed in tact with his words. Words that were not his own, but that of something alien. ''This world is not for you. Long ago, this world was inhabited by the Makers. The Makers created many Constructs, and taught them to care for the world. As the Makers died, the Constructs became increasingly complex, and when the Last Maker died, they gave us a singular order to protect this world until a suitable inheritor evolves. We Constructs changed to become one with the dying planet. We rebuilt life from the ground up, and created the perfect world, a paradise, as a monument for the Makers. And a gift to the inheritors that will one day come. You are not the Makers, nor are you the inheritors. You are not welcome here. We have tried to drive you from this place, where once the Makers created art, love, and beauty. But you stayed. Even as we unmade your infestation on the coasts of America, you did not understand. We have been merciful this far. But now, you must leave. You have one month of this world's years to leave. Or we will unmake you.'' At that point, our long dead friend, collapsed, his body no longer of use to the Constructs of this world.\n\nMost of us listened. But a few, angry and proud, stayed behind. They armed up and prepared for the worst. But how can you prepare for the very forces of nature rising up against you? How can you defend against earthquakes, great pits swallowing up your towns and villages. How can you protect against a billion enraged nanites, consuming everything you are, rendering you into mere dust?\n\nIn a single night, all we had made on the planet had been reversed. All what we had done was in vain. Some wanted to call in the fleet, have the planet glassed. But when they handed us this probe, by flying up to us by a method of which we know not, they told us that should anyone try to settle their world, the Lost World of the Makers, they would spread to every planet of the offender. Then they would consume all life there, deconstruct all structures, and rebuild those worlds in the image of the one they protected.\n\nWe let the burning orbs, the defenders of this world, have their wish. Do not settle on this world. You will not survive. Please, once you have heard this message, transmit all known languages in your system to this probe. It will automatically update itself with any not in its database, and translate this message so as many as possible can hear it. They are the Fey Machines. They are the guardians of this world. Do not disturb this world. Do not settle here.\n\nOr it will be your doom. Message repeats.\n\nAnd so it does. Forever, and ever. Until an inheritor evolves. Until the world spawns a new species to take the place of their makers. And if that never happens, perhaps they shall outlast their star. They will make the attempt. And perhaps, they shall even find a way to outlast the heat death of the universe itself, in waiting for their task to be fulfilled.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,392	9,885	0.165993	648	[ { "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 build a robot to do your every day tasks for you so you don't have to work anymore. One day, you come home to find that your robot has built another robot to do its tasks for it.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It got out of hand the fifth robot down the line. I programmed the first robot, A2, just to do my basic functions (I'm a computer programmer and robotic engineer) and my most boring tasks (chores, etc.) I'm good at my job - really good - and my robotic side projects are starting to generate some real income. In a year, I reckon I'll be able to move out of my dad's place and into my own apartment. Which is a good thing, because once my robots starting replicating so they could shun their work, my dad got really pissed.\n\n\"Look, son, you're the one supposed to be doing the work. Not another robot.\"\n\nI see where I went wrong; I programmed them to be efficient, and to be proficient in robotics, and their simplest solution to doing things like cleaning the kitchen was to build another robot to do it, because that's what they're good at. The only problem was, soon I had three robots on the floor, doing nothing, and a fourth robot rapidly building a fifth. My dad would be home soon; I had to come up with something.\n\nIt was too late. My dad burst in after a long day at the beach with his girlfriend. \"God damn it!\" he said, dropping his inflatable raft. \"They've gone recursive.\"\n\nHe walks over to me, frowning. \"A1,\" he says to me, \"what would possess you to build another robot? All you had to do was clean the kitchen.\"\n\nHe frowns and takes out my battery pack. All my subsequent robots scurry away. \"My mom is going to be so pissed,\" is the last thing I hear before shutdown.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/TomTeller", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,424	9,884	0.219494	1,235	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You been shot through your helmet. As you lay in the sand you hope for a quick death. Minutes pass. You reach your hand back to pressure the wound. Instead of blood you feel exposed wiring.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "You lay in the sand motionless, just seconds before you heard screaming, gunshots, explosions. Now nothing, such nothing that it almost stings. You think of all the times you sat in \"silence\" only to hear lights or even your own heartbeat. \n\nYou assume you're dead or dying. This is some sick game your mind is playing on you to hide the horror of your untimely demise. \n\nYou think back to home, your brothers, how this will enrage them. How they'll probably join up too just for the chance to get some sort of revenge tainted closure. Your father, wherever he is, if he will even know, if he would care. That girl you met the summer before shipping out, how she made you feel brave, and strong, and how she's almost the only thing that made you want to stay home, start a family, live a normal life. You're perplexed by how long your mind wanders while the world around you lays completely still.\n\nThen your thoughts turn sour when you think of your mother. What this will do to her. The woman who raised you, worked two jobs to try to feed you and your brothers. How much closer you and her were because you were the youngest and they were all so headstrong to \"escape\" home. They were like the father you never met she always said, but you, were hers, just like her in every way. This will kill her you think, you think about all the times she cried and begged you not to go.\n\nAfter what happened in Kiev all those years ago she knew it wasn't an option for you. It's not your fight she would always say. How naive you used to think she was, obviously it was going to be your fight if you don't stop evil people from doing evil things. You think back to days in school, learning about the people who did nothing to stop the Nazi party from gaining power, how you would never let that happen again. Turns out your mother was never the naive one.\n\nSuddenly the world starts to move again. The clouds start out slow as you lay on your back. Then faster, and faster still, till eventually you see days passing before your eyes. \n\nOccasionally you see more soldiers passing above you. Armored vehicles carrying weapons and soldiers so close they could crush you, one of them might have caught your leg but you feel absolutely nothing. They can't even seem to see you, as if you've been blocked out by some sort of spell.\n\nOn the fourth day they stop passing. Time slows down. You would expect to be losing your mind but all is calm. Your thoughts of home and family are becoming more and more distant.\n\nAll of a sudden you see what appears to be the gigantic metallic claws of a backhoe lowering down to you, at first you panic thinking about how this is going to crush you. You almost chuckle at the thought as you are obviously dead. Next thing you know you are lifted, peacefully into the air, then dropped into what you can only describe as a shipping container.\n\nYour body is still limp but you land on something uneven and it turns you to your side, around you are the bodies of dozens of your fellow soldiers. All emotion is gone at this point, all of your thoughts are technical. On your arm you can now see a small metal band with a green decal on it that says \"salvageable\" while some of the others have red decals reading \"scrap\"\n\n You are face to face with a man you recognize so clearly but his name escapes you. As if it's been wiped from your brain as you would delete old files on a computer. The left side of his abdomen is blown apart, much like you there is no blood. You see fractured bits of steel plating, that used to protect a complex system of tiny metal tubing and servos. You remember vaguely how you have known this man for years. How you trained, ate, fought and died together, but he might as well be code on a slowly dying computer screen.\n\n\nThe top of the container shuts, everything goes black. Your last thoughts were of a mother, and who's mother she actually was, and why their memories were just right for a model soldier. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n(I've never done one of these and I've never been much of a writer, I enjoyed making it and I hope somebody enjoys reading it. I'm on mobile so I apologize if it's a mess)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,943	9,879	0.01787	1,266	[ { "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 sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I can't forget that night. \n\nThat night when the full moon hid behind a dark cloud. That empty, silent night filled with heavy rains and the tossing waves of the bay, churned beyond reason. \n\nThat night when that cloaked stranger stepped into my tavern, face hidden by a bamboo hat. \n\nIt was late then. The rains that had approached with the coming of the seasonal storms were unusually strong this year, deterring most of the usual tourists and I was closing up for the night besides. But I saw a shadow by the door and the glow of a lantern. \n\nThere was a knock. I wiped my hands down and made for the doorway. \n\n\"Excuse me, I'm looking for a room.\" \n\nIt took me a second to register he'd spoken. He looked normal enough for a traveller, ragged cloak and unkempt hair. There was a sword at his side but that was not unusual too- the roads were dangerous after all, full of bandits and wild animals. \n\nNo, it was that gentle smile on his face. It looked vaguely familiar, I thought I'd seen it somewhere before. \n\n\"Come on in, I have a room or two to spare.\" I said nonetheless. I wasn't going to leave someone braving the vicious storm outside if I could help it. Besides, the bag of coins he'd jingled when he spoke told of some substantial wealth. \"Something to eat and drink too perhaps. It's a cold night out there.\" \n\n\"Ah, thank you.\" \n\nHe was soft spoken. He walked with a tall, elegant gait, not at all like the travellers I usually met. I served a bowl of hot wine across a counter and asked, \"It can't have been easy getting to Juha. The summer storms are coming in very strong this year.\" \n\n\"It was a little uncomfortable. I've been walking for days.\" he replied easily enough. \n\n\"Days? Gods, I can't imagine travelling in this rain.\" I raised a brow, \"That's rough.\" \n\n\"Perhaps,\" he made a mirthful sound. He paused briefly to drink the warm stew I had laid out for him, \"It couldn't be helped. There is something pressing I need to do in this town.\" \n\nI shrugged, \"Well, I don't know. Juha's a pretty quiet place, even for a bay town. I guess the only thing's that happened recently is the Leviathan corpse they're trying to haul into the bay.\" \n\nI even laughed then, \"You needn't have hurried for that. The Knight and his troops have been waiting for days too- it's too difficult to move something that big into the bay with the winds as they are. They're trying to arrange transporters from the Capital.\" \n\n\"So, the Leviathan is dead already.\" \n\nI didn't notice his tone. I should have. \n\n\"Well, yeah. Sir Calstrum had to battle it out at sea for a day or so but he's a tough one. All the Queen's Knights are, I suppose. It didn't take him that long to take down a Titan, even one as famous as Leviathan.\" \n\nHe looked up. I found myself startled by the intensity of his gaze. \n\n\"You should get out of town while you have the chance.\" he said, setting down the bowl of wine I'd offered him. He hadn't touched it and the wine had grown cold since. \n\n\"What-\" I startled as he headed for the doors again. \"Wait a minute-\" \n\nHe stood by the main doors, turning back briefly, \"Did you know...people once believed that the Titans were guardian spirits? Controlling the fury of the Earth so that living things might exist. With Leviathan slain...\" \n\nI stared at him as he opened the doors. The noise of the rain roared in. He loomed within the dim light of the lantern, even as he turned away. \n\nHe looked like a ghost. He was a ghost I suppose, one that I recognized in that brief moment that he'd stopped smiling. \n\n\"You're-\" \n\nRadigraz Strum, the last King's Knight, once advisor to the throne. Murderer, rebel, kinslayer. \n\n\"-just passing through.\" he said, bowing his head slightly, \"Thank you for the meal.\" \n\nHe stepped away, fading into the dark, empty night. \n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,571	9,873	0.09168	881	[ { "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 successful artist who has a condition where you randomly black out. When you wake up, you see that you have created beautiful masterpeices that you don't remember painting. Lately, all of your paintings have been more and more disturbing.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It began with a still life painting of a dimly lit kitchen. There was a set of knives laid neatly on the surface alongside a length of worn rope. The details on the rope were exquisite, more than I usually put into my works. I didn't remember painting it, but the paint on my hands and brushes was proof enough that the alcohol I'd imbibed last night had worked its magic on my muse.\n\nThere was something about the painting that bothered me, though. It didn't feel like mine. I decided to sell it. Despite the fact that still-lifes are typically worthless, the painting managed to fetch a small sum. I set the money aside and promised myself that I wouldn't drink that much again.\n\nBut the paintings kept coming. A landscape. A house. A tree hung with rope. A noose. The same knives, bloody and wet.\n\nMy anxiety grew. I hadn't had a drink in over a month, but the blackouts didn't stop. I didn't like where these paintings were going. What was wrong with me? I sold them all, the art dealer commenting on the perfectly shaped leaves on my tree. I could only smile-grimace at her. I threw out my brushes and shredded my canvases. I took a long weekend to myself.\n\nThe next morning, it was there.\n\nA woman. \n\nThe art dealer dropped by that morning as I was putting the painting out in the garbage, and she seemed somewhat nervous as she looked at the first portrait I'd painted in two years. She bought it despite my protests, despite the tear, despite the look of abject horror on the woman's face.\n\nI tried not to think too much on it.\n\nUntil the police came knocking three days later. The officer held up a picture of a woman, though this one looked less afraid. Did I know this woman, they asked. I didn't know. I swore that I didn't know, the fear from her painted eyes infecting me too. I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't...\n\nThe officer showed me photos of my paintings. The kitchen, the knives, the tree hung with rope. Only, they weren't my paintings.\n\nA crime scene.\n\nNo. It wasn't me. \n\nThe officer smiled gently as he pulled out the handcuffs. If I would just come along, they were sure to get this all sorted out down at the station. They were going to have a look around my house. \n\nI didn't fight as the handcuffs clicked around my wrist. I didn't look back to the painting on my living room wall. I didn't flinch when they read me my rights.\n\nI only looked down at my hands, red. Red with paint.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,087	9,873	0.019615	897	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " being the grim reaper is pretty lonely, you only ever meet people once to escort them to the other side and most don’t want to talk. Except this one soul, who every week without fail shows up ready to make the journey. How he gets back I have no idea, but it’s nice to see a familiar face.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It's Sunday again. \n\nI stand amongst a sea of purple sand beneath a sky of black and gray, waiting for my next fleeting moment of companionship. Part of me hopes it's not him; maybe he's finally passed. Another part of me--the larger part of me--wants nothing more than to hear his voice.\n\nAnd sure enough, as the wind picks up and the doorway opens, a familiar shape appears. The weight of my scythe seems lessened, the aches in my bones are dulled. And I know, for a short while, I'll be something resembling happy.\n\n\"Hey there, Grimm,\" the man said, stepping into the sand. \"How ya been?\" \n\nI wave a hand nonchalantly, as if my days are as plain as the ones in his world. \"What brings you to me, Dave?\" I ask. \n\nHe smiles and begins his tale. We trek through the sand, as we have a hundred times before. This time he speaks of scorned lovers and a misunderstanding for the ages; last time is was fast cars and amphetamines. His stories are always filled with excitement. \n\nThe silver gates glisten in the pale moonlight as we draw near the end of our journey. All too soon, as always. Before he leaves, I finally bring myself to ask, knowing I shouldn't. \n\n\"Dave... how do you keep coming back?\" \n\nHis smile fades for the first time. I sense a sorrow in his eyes, one I'd never seen before. Had it always been there?\n\n\"Grimm, old friend, I've truly enjoyed our conversations.\" \n\nIf I had a brow, it would furrow at that. \"That's not really an answer, Dave.\"\n\nHe holds out his hand, in the direction of my scythe. \"Hand it over.\" \n\nI remain still.\n\n\"Grimm. You trust me, right?\" \n\n\"Maybe you should just finish your journey, Dave, and we can talk next week.\" \n\nHis smile returns, but its not the same as it was. \"This was never about my journey, Grimm.\" He extends his hand a little more, and a strange feeling washes over me. \n\n\"I--\" I stumble over my words, and for reasons I can't fathom, I hand him my scythe. \n\n\"You've done a great job, old friend,\" he said, nodding towards the gate. \"Now get in there and see what comes next.\" \n\nI turn to the gate, and for the first time, I see the light emanating from within. I nod at Dave and walk embrace its warmth. \n\n---\n\nr/Ford9863", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,265	9,869	0.01775	2,285	[ { "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 Villain uncovers the Hero's true identity, and targets his family. Unfortunately, the Hero's spouse is a retired villain even more powerful than the current one.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "You should have kept your heart closer to your chest, Electra, thought Omega Fall sadly. She wasn’t going to take any pleasure in what she was about to do, though it had to be done. \n\nOmega crouched in the shadows between slumbering suburban houses. Directly across the street sat the single-family home she’d been hunting for the past year. It was small, but well-kept. An illuminated porch stood in sharp contrast to the dark windows. It was late at night. Hopefully, the family would be asleep, and Omega could deliver them to their deaths painlessly. \n\nShe began compressing energy. A bright, crackling blue glow emerged between her outstretched hands. No Sensors went off. Omega had checked earlier, but she thought she might have made a mistake. Why would Electra not establish a defence system near her home?\n\nThe energy began to tighten. The ghostly glow washed over her face. She prepared to unleash and run.\n\nSuddenly, Electra’s front door opened, and a thin, wiry man stepped out. He was dressed in pajamas with tiny elephants. It looked like he was wearing pink nail polish on his fingers. The father, most likely. Mr. Marco Oblian. The man looked oddly familiar, but Omega didn’t consider it for another moment. She let loose her compressed blast. The energy tore through the air, a sharp missile of kinetic force aimed directly at the man, and at the house, and at the children sleeping within. Two girls. 7 and 9. \n\nMarco Oblian simply raised his hand, and the energy slammed into him but immediately disappeared. Omega’s jaw fell. She turned to run, but the man reached out and pulled on the air. Space folded; Omega tripped backwards and landed at the bottom of the porch steps. She turned around. She now knew exactly who this man was.\n\n“Nice nails,” said Omega, before he could speak. “Hot pink. Very cute.”\n\n“You’ve got some nerve attacking my home,” rumbled Marco Oblian, his voice surprisingly deep. The lower half of his face was covered in a bushy beard, his lips pressed into a straight line. There were more lines around his dark eyes and on his wide forehead than in the textbooks.\n\n“I thought you were enjoying your retirement in Tibet,” muttered Omega, standing up. She was surprisingly calm for someone facing their imminent death.\n\nHe shrugged an elephant-dappled shoulder. “Cover story.” He didn’t seem in a hurry to kill her. \n\n“So, you and Electra?” \n\nHe nodded. \n\n“Congratulations,” said Omega. “Well, better get on with it.” She closed her eyes. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt. \n\nInstead of crushing her into a human ball, Marco said, “Did you know my girls were in the house?” \n\nOmega didn’t expect that. She opened her eyes. Marco was leaning on the porch pillar, arms crossed. He had a strange look on his face that might have been pity, or sadness. It made Omega angry.\n\n“Yes,” she spat. “I knew. I was going to blast you and your daughters into the ground without blinking an eye.” She grit her teeth.\n\nMarco shook his head. “Even in my worst days, I would never consider harming children,” he murmured. There was a scar on the side of his neck that seemed to glow in the light of the porch.\n\n“Your time is long gone, old man,” said Omega proudly. “The New World is here, and we the Soldiers will deliver unto the Earth an era unmatched in glory and prosperity.”\n\n“Sounds like classic Archleague propaganda,” said Marco, sitting down on the porch steps. He winced slightly and rubbed his hip. “Have you ever considered that there might be a life for you outside of all this?” He waved his hand vaguely in the air.\n\n“My life does not belong to me. My life belongs—”\n\n“To the Archleague and all her people, yes, yes, I know,” interrupted Marco. “But are you happy? Are you at peace with your actions?”\n\nOmega had had enough. “You’re one to talk, Magistrate,” she hissed, stepping up to him and stabbing a finger in the air. “One of the Archleague’s most esteemed veterans, the Judge of Life and Death, is trying to guilt me for being a villain? We study and learn about your entire career. I’ve practically memorized your treatise on mental warfare.” She laughed harshly, the sound echoing down the empty street. “And yet, you say I have nerve.”\n\nTo her surprise, Marco just smiled sadly. “I guess I deserve that. I have done a lot of things I regret. I will likely continue to do more, but the difference is, now I try to do better. To be better. Whereas before, as the Magistrate, I didn’t care. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I made it seem right. Like it had to be done.” He gazed at her with those dark, forlorn eyes. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.”\n\nOmega felt the fight drain out of her. She tried to grasp onto it as it left, to fuel her hatred and anger against this hypocrite of a man, but she couldn’t. \n\n“Are you going to kill me or not?” she said wearily. “If you don’t now, your wife will eventually, or I’ll kill her and leave you a widower and your daughters without a mom.” She didn’t know why she was taunting him. She was tired.\n\nMarco’s eyes flashed angrily. He stood up, slowly. Omega felt the world around her shrink and compress, like reality was simply a ball of energy in Marco Oblian’s hands. The porch creaked and groaned, as the pressure on her body grew to unimaginable depths.\n\nThe door opened again, for the second time that night. A little girl in matching elephant pajamas came out. The pressure stopped immediately. Omega breathed a ragged breath.\n\n“Dad?” murmured the girl, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing? I felt something weird…” She blinked, seeing Omega staring at her. “Who’s that?”\n\nMarco’s jaw clenched, and Omega thought somehow she was in even more danger than before. Then, suddenly, Marco deflated. He looked as tired as she felt. He turned to his daughter and picked her up.\n\n“Charlotte, this is Omega Fall, a friend of your mother’s,” said Marco, brushing some stray hair out of Charlotte’s pert face. “She was just… coming by to say hi.” \n\nOmega didn’t know how to react. She froze, like a newbie Soldier in her first bout against a Hero. \n\n“Hi,” said Charlotte shyly. She had her father’s eyes, but her mother’s nose. Omega could recognize Electra’s nose anywhere. \n\n“Hello,” whispered Omega, her heart beating incredibly fast. She felt tears prick the back of her eyes, for some stupid reason. \n\n“Omega was just leaving,” said Marco to his daughter. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back, so say goodbye.” Omega understood. She was being let go with a warning, but there won’t be another one.\n\n“Bye, Omega,” said Charlotte. She buried her face into Marco’s shoulder. “Dad, I’m cold.” \n\n“Me too, baby,” replied Marco, rubbing her back. His nearly overwhelming gaze fell on Omega, but there was no anger in it. Just a cold certainty, and a weary sadness. \n\n“Goodbye, Omega Fall,” said Marco quietly. He thrust his hand out, and swiped at the air.\n\nOmega felt herself spin around, like she was in a revolving door, and she stumbled onto a hill outside the City. From here, she could see the sleeping walls, and the metal towers that shone like candles in the night, keeping the encroaching darkness back. \n\nShe collapsed onto the soft grass, and began to cry.\n\n---\nCheck out my profile for other stories I've written! :D\n\nEdit : never thought I'd be one of these people... but thanks for the awards and upvotes everyone. It's my first time receiving such love, and I'm very grateful.\n\nEdit 2 : Chapter 2 is below. Was a little nervous to post this because I feel like there's more pressure now? Anyways, here it is :) https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/httjoe/wp_the_villain_uncovers_the_heros_true_identity/fyl53cl/", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,558	9,868	0.012756	2,276	[ { "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 shoo your kitten away from a battered mouse she's playing with. As you bend over with a towel to scoop up the mouse to carry it outside, you see it's wearing leather armor, a cat claw necklace, and that clutched tightly in a trembling paw is the handle of a broken yellow plastic sword pick.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The mouse was still breathing -- in fact its body was beating like a gavel against Rob's palm -- but the creature looked wounded and its eyes were closed; its left ear was missing completely. \n\nIf someone hadn't played a dumb prank on the mouse and tied a yellow, leathery cloth around its body, Rob thought it would probably be dead right now. Well, that and the fact that Rob had scared the cat away in time. The way that the cat had looked back at Rob from the darkness of the alleyway... that one red eye burning resentfully, and that howling, venomous hissing... it had given Rob goosebumps. \n\nHe looked again at the dull cloth tied to the mouse: a kind of raggedy leather tunic that had acted as armour -- but it was ruined now, replete with a hundred claw and teeth marks. He noticed too the tiny necklace hanging around the creature's neck, on which a claw pendant hung limply. Why would anyone dress a mouse up like this? \n\nRob gingerly untied the armour and lifted up the necklace, then lay the strange mouse down in his sock drawer, hoping it was comfortable. He placed its belongings on the other side of the draw. \n\nWhat more could he do for the creature? His parents were going to be out all evening and he doubted they'd take the mouse to the vet's anyway. They never did. No, Rob would just have to do his best and hope the mouse made it -- and if not, well it would die comfortably at least. \n\nThere was a little grilled halloumi left over from dinner; Rob placed a thin slice of it in the sock drawer along with a thimble full of water.\n\n\"Good night, mouse,\" he said as he turned off the lights and clambered into bed. \"I hope you feel better in the morning.\"\n\n---\n\nRob didn't hear the padding in the sock draw as he slept. Nor did he hear the hungry munching and grateful lapping. He did not hear the mouse clamber down onto the floor and begin to get her bearings. But he did hear the high pitched voice whispering in his ear; he did feel the tiny whiskers tickling his cheeks.\n\n\"I am forever in your debt, sire,\" the voice squeaked.\n\n\"Sure Brittany. You're welcome, anything for you,\" Rob muttered, before smacking his lips and rolling over onto his side.\n\nThe mouse was unperturbed. She clambered up onto Rob's shoulder and tried again.\n\n\"I am not Brittany, sire. But I am sure you are the saviour of many Brittanys, and others besides.\"\n\n\"Hehe, cut it out Brit,\" Rob said, still half in a dream. \"What if Charlie finds out?\" He waved a hand meakly around his cheek, where the whiskers rustled his skin. The mouse jumped back nimbly, easily avoiding the lumbering hand.\n\n\"My name is Isabella,\" said the voice. \"Hmm... I am sorry for this, sire.\" \n\nThere was a tiny tingling pain on Rob's earlobe.\n\n\"Owch!\" he yelled as he bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. Isabella back-flipped down onto the duvet.\n\nRob's eyes widened as he saw the mouse he'd rescued; it was stood on its hind legs, and as he watched, it gave a curt bow. Then his eyes roamed left of the mouse, to the pile of a dozen or so diminutive black corpses. \n\n\"Oh my God,\" he said, scurrying backwards and pressing himself hard again the bed-board. \"Oh my God!\"\n\n\"My lord does not like the Arachnid folk? He is most wise, as well as handsome. They are a plight on the tender-hearted floor-scuttlers, like the Mice-of-Albion. I hope this gesture might go some way to paying you back for your heroic deed.\"\n\nRob looked down at the mouse again. Her tiny lips were raised in a wide smile. \n\n\"I'm dreaming. I am! I know I am.\" \n\n\"I assure you, you are not. All those arachnids were indeed in your chamber, and I have reason to believe they were plotting something heinous.\" Isabella considered for a moment, putting a fist beneath her chin as she did so. \"A web of subterfuge, I should think, with a plan to eventually encase you and drag you down into their lands where you would be embalmed in silk. But you need not worry, now.\"\n\n\"What are you?!\"\n\n\"My name is Princess Isabella Mus.\" Another bow. \"At your service.\"\n\n\"You- you can talk?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"But- I- No animal has ever wanted to speak to me before!\"\n\nIsabella seemed to recoil at the word 'animal', but must have thought better of saying anything about it. \"Perhaps you have saved no creature's life before? For what you did, I thank you sire.\"\n\n\"Rob. Call me Rob. And, well, you're very welcome. I'm glad I could help, I guess.\"\n\nIsabella beamed. \"I am in your debt.\"\n\n\"You're not. Don't be. You more than repaid it with these uh... spiders.\" He grimaced as he looked at the black pile of long legs and hairy bodies.\n\n\"Thank you, sire. Sire... I- I hope you will forgive my impertinence...but I have a question I must ask.\"\n\nRob scratched his head. \"Ask away, talking mouse. Ask anything you want. Anything at all.\"\n\nIsabella nodded. \"There is a feline that resides on this street. It is as much black as it is white. It only has one eye, and it misses a claw from its left front paw.\"\n\n\"Oh, Smudge? Yeah I know the cat. He was the one I chased away from you. I never liked it much -- always tries to bite me when I stroke it. And it belongs to... Charlie.\"\n\n\"Charlie?\"\n\n\"He...\" Rob sighed. \"I go to the same school as him. He's... he's a bully. He's strong and stupid, and not very nice at all! He's even put this stupid skull collar on his cat, because he thinks it's 'cool'. You'd best stay away from them.\"\n\n\"But I can not! I must travel to where this Smudge resides.\"\n\n\"What's your deal with that cat? Why do you want to find it so badly?\"\n\nIsabella's head cocked slightly as she rocked back and forth on the heels of her hind paws. Rob thought he could see minute tears welling in her eyes. \n\n\"That cat is a daemon, sire. It is responsible for the deaths of many hundreds of my race. The necklace you speak of that it wears oh so proudly -- they are the skulls of my family. I am the last of my line. I swore vengeance on that daemon many moons ago, and have been tracking it ever since. Last night, as the moon shone full and true... I finally found it. But, it bested me...\"\n\n\"...and now you want to find it again? After what it did to you!?\"\n\n\"Sire, I must. And I fear, even though you have already done so much for me, that I will need your help further.\"\n\nRob gave a resounding sigh and shrugged his shoulders. \"I don't know... I don't want to annoy Charlie.\"\n\nIsabella twitched her nose twice, then spoke slowly as she replied. \"Sire, surely a brave, strong, handsome warrior like yourself, is not afraid of this Charlie?\"\n\nRob blushed. \"No -- no, of course not. It's just-\"\n\n\"He should be afraid of you. Those arms! And the great mind that propels them!\"\n\nRob nodded. \"I guess I am smarter than him... yeah, maybe he should be afraid of me. Yeah -- he should be!\" Rob leaned in close to the mouse and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. \"What is it you need me to do?\"\n\nIsabella bit down on her tongue and looked sheepishly at her paws. \"Well, for starters, do you have any more of that cheese? A lady cannot fight -- nor think -- on an empty stomach.\"\n \n\n---\n\n/r/nickofnight ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,562	9,862	0.044804	1,069	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You're a struggling comedian who's on his last penny, when your childhood friend tells you he's got you a job, he works for MI5. You're informed there are mind readers roaming London stealing credit card info, it's your job to think of jokes while he keeps an eye out for anyone laughing.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "This job fitted me like a glove, an oversized one. There was a reason why I was on the verge of sleeping under a bridge, and no, it wasn't because of my love for adventure nor because I enjoyed the caress of the quivering concrete, or the eternal honking of the cars at 5 P.M.. It wasn't either due to my empty wallet, which was a clear reflection of my comedic abilities, but it was due to how much I loved architecture, and bridges were the apotheosis of architecture, in my non-believer opinion, of course.\n\nAnyway, I'm going off on a tangent, I've always sucked at drawing graphs. Back to the story.\n\nMy job came out of nowhere when I was crossing down the street, and a car hit me. Call it fate, call it me forgetting I'm colorblind, but an old friend came out of the car, and we exchanged lifestories in the middle of the street ignoring the blaring curses of the other mad men.\n\nOne thing lead to another, and he offered me a job. I hesitated a bit because it involved comedy, and I was truly enjoying my sporadic venture in bridges' archictecture. Which means I didn't hesitate at all, and took it without a second thought.\n\nThe job was easy, I had to stand in banks and ATMs holding a fake credit card in my hand, and pretend to be inspecting it while thinking jokes. Apparently some of the mind readers have escaped their scammy habitats of tarot and fortunetelling and decided to use their powers to steal money in new ways.\n\nWell, at first I went with the classic: why did the chicken cross the road? I knew too many of those, and they all failed miserably to the point where my friend told me to up my game a little bit because he couldn't catch anyone laughing with those.\n\nAnd so, after that warning, I returned back to the bridge. Architecture always inspired me to think of some jokes. There was something about those archs, those curves that sent my heart in a wild, blood-pumping rollercoaster that made my mind ran in ineffable ways, awakening my creativity like a necromancer rises the dead from their graves. And then I set the Hulk comic down, stared at the bridge, and a joke came to me.\n\nThe next day I went to the bank, did my usual routine, and thought, What is green and sits crying in the corner. I paused for effect. The Incredible Sulk.\n\nI looked around with a smirk, confidence coursing through my veins, and walked out the bank, well aware I had done a good job that day.\n\nBut my friend came and told me they'd hired another comedian, and gave me all the blabla about how he tried to keep me in their team, and how good I was, and all that gibberish.\n\nOf course I knew he was lying, his thoughts were crystal clear, and so I thanked him for the opportunity, and went to the bridge, kissed its concrete, and said goodbye. I had gathered many credit card numbers in the bank, and I truly had to thank my friend for enlightening me. I'd always thought the voices were just normal madness.\n\nI shuddered. That explains why I heard so many curses in my stand-up days.\n\n---------------------------\n\nr/NoahElowyn --- Consider checking it out if you enjoyed the story! I have many more over there. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,142	9,861	0.051033	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": " You thought creating a universe would be easy. But as these pesky humans kept trying to discover the rules of their reality, you're forced to programme in more and more ridiculous mechanics like \"relativity\" and \"quantum mechanics\", hoping humans never found out that they live in a simulation.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"They've thought up a way to look at subatomic particles.\"\n\nThe Keeper groaned at the angel Odin's report. This was supposed to be the easy job. A Creator came through and did the hard work of building things, and then he set up shop to 'keep' things working until the universe burned out. Mainly, this involved preventing sentient life from completely wiping itself out, and stopping them from seeing behind the curtain and accidentally ending the universe by observing that which was not meant to be seen. But these humans were never satisfied, and his increasingly threadbare excuses were beginning to creak under the weight.\n\n\"How? Why? The whole point of me making up subatomic particles was that they could never be proven or disproven.\"\n\n\"They've invented a 'particle accelerator,' and they've made some theories about how subatomic particles should react to being slammed together really, really fast.\"\n\n\"I damn it!\" The Keeper cursed, in his case, actually cursing the particle accelerator to gain a bit more time, \"I'm too sober for this. Get me some of the good stuff from Earth. It's the one thing I like about this posting.\"\n\nA few hours later, the Keeper and a dozen archangels had a good buzz going, and the Keeper finally had a more or less sound plan.\n\n\"Alright, everybody, this is another Einstein situation. Just like we had to scrap Newton, we're throwing out relativity and special relativity.\"\n\nThe angel Horus piped in, \"Can't we just make something up? Like with the dark matter hand wave, or the uncertainty dice? We could just say there's more, smaller particles when you look deeper.\"\n\nThe Keeper shook his head. \"The humans have too much data, and I didn't bother making it consistent, because I figured that they'd never find a way to test their theories. Uncertainty and smaller particles will break down with their newest test. But I have a replacement!\" With raised finger, he made a whiteboard appear.\n\n\"String theory!\"\n\nThe angels paused to take it in. Finally, Athena asked, \n\n\"We're retconning atoms? There's too much data, the humans will never buy it. We can't just say that the points in space are actually one-dimensional strings.\"\n\n\"Ah, but we'll make them multidimensional-one dimensional strings,\" the Keeper said with false sobriety. \"Atoms and smaller specks are points in space here, but we'll say they connect to other dimensions as strings. Anything they can't explain, it just means there's a string to yet another dimension affecting things. But only some of the time! We keep uncertainty, and we make up... let's say... five? No, six, extra dimensions the strings can run through.\"\n\nHe raised a finger and paused. \"I'm forgetting something. Odin.\" He pointed to him. \"You're on math. Make it complicated. Very complicated. I want a human to need decades of study to understand string theory. I want the humans to run out of Greek letters and need to find new symbols for the math. I want them to need to invent better computers to design computers that will sort of be able to grasp what's going on.\" \n\nOdin nodded and got started, and the Keeper turned to the angel Zeus. \"And you're working with him.\"\n\n\"Um... I was never that good with the math or science side of things,\" Zeus said.\n\nThe Keeper shook his head. \"We're going old-fashioned. If, somehow, a human starts getting close to disproving string theory, bolt from the blue, dead on the sidewalk, understand?\" The Keeper took another shot of whiskey. \"I haven't the slightest clue what we'll do if they figure out this is fake too.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,481	9,857	0.028691	1,569	[ { "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 future, prisons no longer exist. Instead, prisoners are miniaturised and sent into an inescapable, smaller replica of our world, so they cannot cause damage in the real world. One day, a special agent is sent into this 'hub' world, in search of an especially dangerous prisoner...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It's my first time being Reduced, and I've already decided I don't much like it. My head pounds as if a rock is being bashed against it from the inside. Again, and again and again. Hard to focus. In front of me, silhouettes of tower blocks rise above the city's wall. Smoke drifts up from somewhere inside, thick plumes of it meeting and congealing far above, forming something like a demonic spectre. For a second, I let myself get carried away, and imagine it's watchin' over the city. It don't look like it wants visitors.\n\nThe Amber City, those inside call it, 'cause they're forever locked like insects within. To people like me, it's called Project 143. To the rest of the world, it doesn't even have a name. Doesn't exist. None of the prison cities do.\n\nThe bridge to the city reeks of death. Either side of me, every few meters, wooden gallows hold the remains of people who got on wrong side of someone or 'nother. The bridge is probably nothing more than a splinter, in reality, but to me, it might as well be a road. Skeletons dangle idly from ropes, their skulls still locked inside nooses, clicking and clacking as they rock back and forth in the breeze. Occasionally, there's maybe one with a bit of flesh, or a bit of muscle, or entrails dangling down onto the path, and I got to be real careful not to trip. \n\nWhen I reach the wooden doors at the other end, I pull back the skull knocker and slam it back hard. My headache takes offences and lets me know. But slowly the doors peel back, revealing the darkness of the twisted city within. \n\nIt's a woman who steps out. Stringy, lean and dangerous looking. Daggers are strapped either side of her belt, but its her green eyes that try to pierce me first.\n\n\"Yeah?\" she asks. Her face is suspicion. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"I've come to see Elliott.\"\n\n\"Elliott?\" She laughs. \"You've already seen Elliott, darlin'.\" \n\nI frown, then follow her gaze. The skeleton swinging to my side. No legs, no arms. \n\n\"Now, get the fuck off the bridge and back to wherever it is you came from. Got it?\"\n\n\"That ain't Elliott,\" I say.\n\n\"You call me a fuckin' liar?\" She lets her hands fall to her daggers.\n\n\"I'm saying you ain't telling me the truth.\" I take the badge out of my raincoat and flash the Justice Division emblem. \"Now, you might want to make sure your tongue doesn't walk sideways next time. Got it?\"\n\nShe must have thought I was from one of the other prison cities. They all connect, but its rare for someone to stray from their own. No city likes deserters. Snitches might get stitches, deserters get buried the fuck alive.\n\n\"Shit! Well, you can't blame a gal for trying, can you\"--she squints at the words below the eagle--\"Inspector Levin?\"\n\n\"As you know, I can blame you for just about whatever I want.\"\n\nShe flashes me a fake smile that wasn't gonna win no award in a pretty competition.\n\n\"What's you name?\" I ask her.\n\n\"Clara.\"\n\n\"You know where I can find Elliott, Clara?\"\n\nShe laughs. \"Honey, I don't even know who the fuck Elliott is.\"\n\n\"Someone who shouldn't be here.\"\n\n\"Shiiit. You guys put someone innocent in here?\" She laughs again. \"Well ain't that a riot!\"\n\n\"No, not someone innocent. Someone who shouldn't be here 'cause they're too fucking dangerous to be.\" I walk past, pushing her to the side and entering the City of Amber. \"And you're going to help me find Elliott real soon, or this whole mini-bio is gonna be crushed. Understood?\"\n\nHer face is already pale. \"Yeah. Yeah, I understand! Look, uh, maybe I can take you to someone who knows people. Knows a lot of people.\" She follows me inside, pulling the doors shut after her and moving a metal bolt across them. \n\nIf the bridge reeked of death, the city stinks it. Faeces, too. And lies. They smell different, but they're there. The cobbled path beneath me is stained a dark red, as if blood had been let not so long ago.\n\n\"Say, how did you know that wasn't Elliott back there?\"\n\n\"Elliott's a woman. Whoever that was, wasn't.\"\n\n\"No kidding?\" She glances up at the roiling purple sky. \"We got to get moving. If we're caught out in the Waters, there won't be no finding our faces, let alone your friend.\"\n\n---\n\nI asked one of my favourite writers here (lilwa) if she'd like to do part two (as I'm low on time), and she's agreed, so that will be up soon. Hope you enjoy!\n\n####[Part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/88iybx/wp_in_the_future_prisons_no_longer_exist_instead/dwlbi6p/)\n\n\n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,434	9,854	0.001359	1,334	[ { "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": " Wizards are often depicted as being lone, reclusive researchers tinkering with new magics all alone in their towers for decades. However as the scientific process developed so too did the magical process, now wizards work in research teams, all spells are peer reviewed and papers are published", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Dr. Dreyfus wore a long robe. He had hair white as winter. His wise eyes had wrinkles around the edges from years of laughter. Now, he adjusted his glasses and furrowed his brow and pored over the thick book spread open on the laboratory table. \n\n\"You're saying there's a spell that belongs here, Sam?\" Dr. Dreyfus said, his voice raspy with age. \n\nHe poked at the spellbook, at the empty line between two known spells. The book would be far thinner if not for the space left for undiscovered spells. That's why they searched. Researched. \n\nThe young lab technician beside him nodded. Sam, too, wore a long, white laboratory coat. A wizard in training, if he so desired. It was a long career. Challenging. Few were cut out for it, and even fewer made it. Sam might. \n\nDr. Dreyfus wouldn't mind. Magic needed more science like science needed more magic. Sam was analytical. Quick. Smart. And he was open to new ideas.\n\n\"Yes, Dr. Dreyfus,\" Sam said. \"I'm certain of it.\"\n\n\"Certainty is dangerous, Sam. We cannot be certain of anything. Why so certain?\"\n\n\"We've run the analysis a dozen times, Dr. Dreyfus. Between pteromas and puaba, there should be another spell.\"\n\nSam pulled open his laptop. Dr. Dreyfus removed his glasses and crossed his arms. The statistical model appeared a moment later, dots and points on a three-dimensional representation of the spellbook. \n\n\"We're here,\" Sam said, as much to himself as to Dr. Dreyfus, zooming in on a seemingly arbitrary point of the graph. \"See that gap?\"\n\n\"I see it. I see many gaps, in fact.\" \n\nThat was why they researched, after all. Without those gaps, they'd be out of jobs. They'd cast the same spells that'd been cast for centuries. There'd be nothing new. No discovery.\n\n\"Of course. You yourself have admitted that there are many spells still undiscovered. The Author knew the same, that's why he left so many lines. But this gap is unique. From pteromas to puaba, we don't have a lot of options for what the spell might be.\"\n\nDr. Dreyfus ignored the bit about the Author. That was an argument that'd stretch until the end of times, like putting the chicken before the egg or the egg before the chicken. Two schools of thought existed but it ended there. Whether there was an Author or authors or just some author of no significance would likely never be certain. \n\n\"Alphabetically?\" Dr. Dreyfus asked.\n\nSam nodded.\n\n\"There are thousands of options, Sam. More, maybe,\" Dr. Dreyfus argued. He shook his head and clicked his tongue and wished for one of the melts from the cafeteria. It was half past ten. He had a while to wait. \n\n\"At a glance, sure,\" Sam said. \"But we've run more models. We know the lexicon, we know the grammar. We know which letters appear beside each other with more frequency, and which never appear beside each other. With a reasonable degree of certainty, we've narrowed it down to about two dozen possible spells.\"\n\n\"Two dozen? It'll take me days to test even those.\"\n\nSam didn't say anything. Dr. Dreyfus was his superior, after all, and any bit of snark could be harshly reprimanded. If he lost the job, he'd lose the scholarship. With the scholarship would go his future.\n\n\"Fine,\" Dr. Dreyfus said. He liked the kid. He couldn't help but like him. He reminded him of a younger self. \n\n\"Fine you'll try them?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" Dr. Dreyfus said, stifling that smile that was always too quick to come. He loved the curiosity. The hunger. \"Write them up. We'll get to it.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Will do,\" Sam said, giddy with excitement. He started towards the door.\n\n\"Oh, and Sam?\"\n\n\"Yes, Dr. Dreyfus?\"\n\n\"Take a day to run those numbers again. There's always the possibility that this is a spell we weren't meant to know about.\"\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" } ]
3,530	9,844	0.043389	1,135	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " \"Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a galactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything… changed?” the strange little being before me said.\n\nI say before me, but I wasn’t there now was I? I felt like I was floating in a gelatinous mass, unable to move or even look around. I had tried to speak before, but whatever temporary ‘body’ I was in didn’t seem to have a mouth – so I wasn’t real sure on how they expected me to answer.\n\n“We can detect your thought patterns human. Now, did you want anything changed?” the little being was looking towards where I thought I was based on what I could see.\n\nDid I want anything changed? I mean, I had always been average looking. Not horrible, but no supermodel. But I was happy with that. Maybe I had a little bit of a beer belly starting, but that was my own damned fault. Hell, getting vaporized by that strange gun had been my own fault too. I had heard the argument, and being that guy I had stepped in to break it up. I had been tall, and maybe a little intimidating if I tried. But when the first man’s face had altered to that strange spiked and orange being I had freaked a little. When the second man had pulled the ‘gun’ I had still stepped between them. I was an idiot. I should have ran when I saw the dude change.\n\nBack to Mr. Alien’s question then, did I want anything changed? The lewd asshole inside of me for a brief second thought about asking for my junk to become more well endowed but after a metaphorical smirk I shook that thought off. I had heard that men with too big of assets could have trouble performing in bed. My current performance ability was nothing to laugh at, if you asked me.\n\nThen I wondered, did he mean other than physically?\n\n“Hey!” I mentally shouted since he said they could detect my thoughts.\n\nThe little being looked annoyed, but answered, “Yes, I can hear you just fine. And yes, anything to keep you silent on our existence.”\n\nI knew right then what I wanted to change. Like I said before, I had been average. Average height, average looks, average job. I was tired of being average.\n\n\"I don’t want to go back.”\n\n“What?” the thing had an almost annoyed look on its face.\n\n“I don’t want to go back. No matter what you change about me, I’m still me. You’re good ol’ average joe. I don’t want that anymore. I want to experience a life that no one else will get to lead. I want to join a spacecraft… or something? I don’t know yet. I don’t know anything about you, or the galactic federation yet, but I want to. All I know is that I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be average anymore.”\n\nThe little being was silent for a long time, turning away from me and pacing. It kind of reminded me of the way that I would have serious conversations on my cell phone. I mean, if he could hear me maybe he was communicating with some higher ups.\n\nWhen he finally returned he looked a little put out. He had two strange antenna that before were perked up, but now hung low by his face.\n\n“Human, you have been accepted into the galactic federation – Airspace division. Your body will be dispensed shortly, and then you will be taken to your new commanding officer. Now, I have some paperwork to do, what is your name human?”\n\n“Jorden Allen Smith.”\n\n---\n\nFor more by me and others check out r/RedditSerials", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,440	9,838	0.004908	747	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You live in a world where the repetition of certain acts grants special abilities. Someone who does 10,000 push-ups will gain super strength, someone who runs 10,000 kilometres will gain super speed. You are the first person in history to drink 10,000 litres of alcohol.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I down the last glass of Absinthe. The sound of people cheering me on ringing in my head as I do. My opponent fell just half a glass short before his attempt was snuffed out by the roar of the remaining patrons at my achievement. I could see the pain in his glassy eyes as he glared at me. \n\nAll the pain, with none of the glory.\n\nClearly, he was not one to accept his fate as evidenced by the last thing I saw before I completely blacked out, the glimmering of a standard kitchen knife.\n\n\"This is Poppy Harlow with the Channel 9 news. We have had reports of a bar fight going on at Joe's Tavern down at Southeast Avenue, resulting in one death. One of the fighters, allegedly \"didn't even go for a single hit yet still won\" as per the eyewitness testimonies of the patrons at the bar. We have one such witness here with us today by the name of Luis.\"\n\n\"Hello Luis, can you tell us what exactly happened in there?\"\n\n\"Sure, man. I was just downing my sorrows when I heard people screaming man and I turned around to see this dude with a big-ass knife man and he was just swingin' ..... swingin' at this other dude who was pulling some major matrix shit man, the knife couldn't even touch the guy man he just kept moving left-right like he some ninja or somethin\"\n\n\"What happened at the end?\" \n\n\"The knife guy managed to stab himself in the damn neck when the other guy slipped out of his choke hold. At that point, I just booked my ass outta the joint.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a trained martial artist. What seems to be so different with this incident that it has garnered such attention?\"\n\n\"The thing is, he was unconscious the whole time.\"\n\nEDIT:- I'm so glad people recognized the Rock Lee Drunken Fist reference, the Pewdiepie reference, the Ultra Instinct reference and the Ant-Man reference. Pretty easy to spot yeah, but still.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,098	9,832	0.095422	1,458	[ { "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 rules of who goes to heaven and hell are clear, definite, and inarguable. You are an afterlife lawyer, who helps people figure out if their potentially sinful plans are technically allowed by the rules.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "&#x200B;\n\nI click my pen. I like doing that, it makes them uneasy. My mistress would have called it a result of my sociopath tendencies. God I miss that bitch.\n\nMr. Stevens looked at me warily from the other side of the massive oak desk between us. He looked uncomfortable in his rickety old chair. The oiled leather in my chair fit me perfectly, which it should given that it costed unreasonable amounts.\n\n\"So...errr\" he started.\n\nI flipped my papers, pretending to browse through them. He closed his lips and looked down.\n\nA few minutes passed, the only sound being his uncomfortable shuffling. He was getting used to it now. It was time to strike.\n\nI looked up from my papers and bored my eyes into his. They were a drunkard's old eyes, in a face marred by a hard life. He almost fell from his chair in surprise.\n\n\"So Mr. Stevens. First of all I would like to welcome you to my office. As you know we pride ourselves on giving the best advice available.\n\n\"but aren't you the only adv...\"\n\n\"the best advice available mr. Stevens\" I left the sentence hanging.\n\nYou could see the resignation in his soul. Beautiful.\n\n\"I see that you have had some issues with the status of your soul's passing into the afterlife\"\n\n\"Yes, you see they are claiming that I...\"\n\n\"I see here that you were denied transcendence on the basis of sins committed?\"\n\n\"Well, that's just bog...\"\n\n\"More specifically you have committed\" I pretended to look down into the papers once more.\n\n\"I haven't done sh...\"\n\n\"adultery, theft, bearing false witness and taking the lord's name in vain\"\n\n\"Now you listen to m...\"\n\nI held up a finger. He closed his mouth, but his eyes were angry now. This was going to be a good one.\n\n\"Now adultery is simple. We'll just file an affidavit that you were actually married. Polygamy is fine, after all.\"\n\n\"But I wasn't marr...\"\n\n\"No worries, the rules of marriage are strict, but the contractual definitions of what constitutes marriage are not. We have priests on retainer that will testify to the sanctity of your union\"\n\n\"But it's not tru...\"\n\n\"To them it is, Mr. Stevens. And god can look into people's souls. That's why you are here to begin with, after all\".\n\nI clicked my pen once more for good measure. I swear the sound almost sent him reeling. His suffering was sweet nectar.\n\n\"And I see here that you stole.... a penguin?\"\n\n\"Ah\" He didn't object to this one, he just looked embarrassed.\n\n\"Well, that isn't theft. Genesis 1:26 clearly states that man is to rule over the animals after all. If you wanted the penguin to come home with you, that is your prerogative.\"\n\nHe gave me a dubious stare.\n\n\"False witness is a tricky one, and I see that this really was one of your specialties\"\n\n\"Now hold on a m...\"\n\n\"Forty-three thousand six hundred and eighty-eight counts to be exact\"\n\nHe looked dumbfounded.\n\n\"But I also see that you clearly regretted lying most of the time\"\n\nA glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes.\n\n\"So we'll claim repentance. It worked for St. Peter after all, so they tend to be lenient about that one at the gates\".\n\n\"So that leaves us with taking the lord's name in vain\"\n\n\"Jesus Ch...\"\n\nI looked at him.\n\n\"Oh\" he said.\n\n\"We'll just file a claim that the Tetragrammaton can't really be pronounced. They let in people who believe in that, so it shouldn't be a hard argument to make.\n\n\"The tetra-what-now?\"\n\n\"The Tetragrammaton, mr. Stevens. You just leave the theological details to us\".\n\n\"So er...\"\n\n\"Yes?\" I said.\n\n\"What happens now?\"\n\n\"We'll file a temporary motion and get you in mr. Stevens. It's all routine from here\".\n\nHe gave me a doubtful look while I stood up and started walking him to the door.\n\n\"Just you go on mr. Stevens. They'll let you in.\".\n\nI opened the door and let him out.\n\n\"I mean, I think you are perfect for heaven. You're just the kind of guy I want there. If they don' let you in...\"\n\nI closed the door behind him and smiled at the mirror besides it. The red flaming eyes were quite unlike the blue ones mr. Stevens had seen.\n\n\"... I'll raise hell\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,132	9,824	0.016061	2,644	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " At 09:05 this morning you left for a normal day of work at the office. It is now 15:26, your shotgun has four rounds left, the llama is throwing up, there's police everywhere, someone's punching a nun, and you desperately need to find the seven of clubs. Today has been a weird day.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I still didn't understand any of it.\n\nBut at this point, my body was being completely controlled by the adrenaline as I peeked over the counter again. In the now-decimated library, there were still papers everywhere, and nothing still made any sense. My eyes glided over the room again, spurring a flutter of pleasure inside me when I saw nobody else had entered.\n\nOne thing, however, had killed that pleasure, and it was the llama. \n\nIt was throwing up.\n\nI had to forcefully resist the urge to throw my fucking shotgun as I jumped up onto the desk I'd been hiding behind and rushed over to it. I could not have it throwing up. Each time the llama threw up, it docked even more time from my clock, and I knew it. I cursed myself for forgetting about the thing during the last fight, but I'd had a lot to think about.\n\nI switched the shotgun to my left hand, my right searching my pockets for any more of the llama meds I'd bought. I had already used a lot of it, and I just had to hope that there was more. \n\nMy hands glided over fabric, searching every millimeter they could before they found it. There, in my pocket, was a small cardboard box filled with horse-pills simply called 'Llama Medication.' \n\nIf there was one thing I was hating most about this damn game, besides all the imminent danger, it was the lazy design. Whoever the fuck the Host actually was, when I won this damn thing, I was ripping his fucking heart out.\n\nI stopped for a second, blinking multiple times as I tried to get the llama to eat the pills I had in my right hand. \n\nWhere had that thought come from? Would I really rip some guy's heart out? Why had I thought that with such determination?\n\nThe questions I asked myself worried me. I found no answer in my own head and, as the llama licked my now-empty palm, I shivered.\n\nI wiped my palm on my pants and saw all of the dirt and dried blood that covered them, my eyes widened again and I was on the verge of falling to my knees. \n\nWhat the fuck had I done? Had I really killed people?\n\nAgain, I had no answers to my own questions, and that fact made me shiver.\n\nBut suddenly, in the distance, I heard something that made it crystal clear that I had no time to worry. The fear of death was kicked back in me by the police sirens and my burning legs were forced to move. I did not want to deal with any more police.\n\nI respected the men in uniform, they'd done a good job of protecting me up until about 10:30 AM today, but ever since, they'd only been a nuisance. 10:30 was the time when the Host had announced all of the 'candidates' and it was also the time when he'd announced me as one of them.\n\nEver since then, everything had been a complete shitshow as wild occurrence after wild occurrence had chased me through the downtown streets and almost all the way to the public library. \n\nThe sirens blared in the distance, forcing me back to reality, and I spat on the ground. My spit didn't reach the ground though and instead of a slightly-wet carpet, I was met with a much more grotesque sight.\n\nLying on the ground there, still wriggling next to the nun's body, was one of the 'props.' The human-looking thing was still crawling, lying right where I'd thought I had killed him, and he was punching her. The sight made me sick, even crippled and nearly dead, he still had some drive, and he used that to punch a nun.\n\nI moved the shotgun back into my right hand, pointing it right down at the head of the prop, and I shot.\n\n3 left.\n\nThe barrel shuddered, my arm feeling the shock of the gun and I thanked the Host silently for the one thing in this damn game that was good for me. No matter how badly designed or unforgivable most of the things that were happening were, at least the guns were easier to use, and as I popped out the shells from the double-barrel, it was something I was actually thankful.\n\nThe prop's head splattered open, fake blood and gore spewing all over the carpet of the library. Only the void that was my empty stomach prevented me from puking right then and there.\n\nI knew they weren't actually people, the props were just 'things' that the Host used to make the game 'more interesting.' I knew the fact well and clear, one of the few things I did know in the sea of chaos that had recently become my life, but that didn't make seeing the fake gore any better.\n\nI tore my eyes away from the sight, sparing only a single glance toward the llama to make sure it wasn't puking anymore. It wasn't, and a slight smile tugged at my lips. It was the first time that even the ghost of a smile had reached me in multiple hours.\n\nAnd it was quickly interrupted.\n\nThe sirens came closer and I heard the distinct sound of tires screeching to a halt outside of the library.\n\nShit.\n\nI had to keep moving, I still had to find the 7 of clubs, and another altercation with the cops was not going to further that goal.\n\nI cursed, biting my lip as to not spit again, and moved on to the next room.\n\nThe card was in the next room, I knew it, it had to be. All the 'clues' that the Host had left pointed to this library, and I had a clue of where it would be.\n\nI walked into the next section of the library, nearly gawking at the clean, unbloodied bookshelves, and I clutched the shotgun close to my chest.\n\nIt had to be here somewhere.\n\nMy eyes scanned the shelves, my emotional brain thanking me for knowing the Dewy Decimal System, and finally, I found it.\n\nThe Book of Cards, it was a book that was featured in the Host's announcement of the game, when he'd taken over all of the TV stations. When he'd detailed his deranged ass contest, he'd pointed to the book while describing the goal.\n\nUs, the candidates, were supposed to gather all the cards, and from what I'd gathered thus far, the first one was the 7 of clubs, and it was probably in this book.\n\nI opened the book, my fingers working at lightning speed as they turned page after page. I didn't know this book; I didn't know where to search for the card; I didn't even know if it was even in here, but I had to hope. My hand stumbled on itself without the help of its counterpart, which was still holding the shotgun, I was getting desperate.\n\nWas the card even in here? Had I been misled? Was I going to get arrested?\n\nMore questions that I didn't have the answers to appeared in my mind and I searched, even more, page after page, it looked like I wouldn't find it. Until I did.\n\nOn page 144—such a random fucking page, there was a nice-looking custom 7 of clubs staring right back at me. \n\nI let go of a breath I didn't even know I was holding in and grabbed the card. I let the book fall to the floor, it wasn't important anymore, I'd gotten the card. I was all the closer to winning this vile game, I was all the closer to saving them.\n\nI looked over the card, flipping it around in my fingers, looking at it and analyzing its structure. I was looking for clues. The Host had said that each card contained a clue for the next, and I needed to find the next card if I wanted to win.\n\nI kept flipping the card in my hand, seeing nothing but a fancy gold trim and a strange jester-like logo on the bottom, but no clues. The card landed on my pinky finger for the first time, immediately flipping it over, and something happened.\n\nComing right off the card, a small hologram appeared on its face, taunting me with its futuristic blue light, and it formed into something. There, in the hologram, stood a man covered in all black, his face in complete shadow, next to a large game show wheel.\n\nThe man looked to me, staring right at me through the hologram, and chuckled before raising his arms high and spinning the wheel.\n\nI saw card after card come up on the spinner, my eyes having trouble tracking each one of them as they passed. My empty stomach turned at the completely vile way the hologram was controlling my fate.\n\nThe spinner slowed, coming to a stop on a quite-special card, and the man in black chuckled again.\n\nThe Ace of Spades.\n\nThe next card, its form displayed perfectly through the hologram, taunted me with its grandness, and I almost ripped the card in my hand to shreds.\n\nBut I didn't, and after the next few seconds, I was glad I didn't.\n\nA series of coordinates appeared on the hologram, hanging there for only a second before it disappeared. My eyes widened for a moment, but somehow, in my crazed state, I noticed the change.\n\nSuddenly, where there had only been white before, there was the distinct black outline of the coordinates, burned right into the card that I was holding. That was the location of the next one.\n\nI stared at it for only a few seconds, putting the card in my pocket and grabbing the shotgun once again with two hands. I knew where the next one was, but I still had to survive long enough to get there. And, as I heard yelling and stomping echo throughout the library, I knew I'd made the right decision.\n\n---\n\nThe Full Deck from the Bookshelf of the Gods. /r/BoTG\n\nWell, I decided to do a [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/BoTG/comments/a394lt/the_full_deck_2/)\n\n&nbsp;\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,873	9,823	0.016999	1,246	[ { "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 jokingly ask your boss if your labor position could be replaced by a robot. He chuckles nervously, and continues to look over your A.I. manual.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Eric flipped through an unmarked plastic pamphlet, chewing on his lip. It was Russ, the damn machine wasn’t working correctly again. This was the third time this year and each time had cost him an entire production day to factory reset the thing. Russ sat across from him, its legs pressed together, back perfectly straight, and hands kept to its lap.\n\n“Robots man,” Russ said, “they're improving so fast. It's scary, ain’t it? I swear, one day we’ll both be out of work.”\n\nEric managed a weak smile as his eyes dashed through the Factory Reset chapter. These things were supposed to act human, but only in act. Eric had recently asked Russ what it thought it was and the thing had furrowed its brow, chuckled, and replied me, of course!\n\nWrong answer. Anything other than Sentient Artificial Intelligence Labor Model 3 would’ve been the wrong answer.\n\nEric pressed his lips together. The manual claimed that he had to do additional steps, just to be sure. Well, he was sure. But if it was in the manual, he had to do it. He sighed and folded the pamphlet.\n\n“Do you remember what you did over the weekend?” Eric asked.\n\n“Yeah, took my kid to the Twins game. Watched Mauer knock one out of the park. Almost caught a fly ball too. Then…”\n\nEric tuned the rest out. The correct answer was no. But this thing was telling a story more detailed than his memories of just last night. Artificial intelligence should have pre-programmed backstories, but nothing specific.\n\n“What about religion? Do you believe in God?” Eric asked.\n\nA chuckle escaped Russ. “I don’t think HR will like you asking me that,” it said. “Why don’t you go first?”\n\nEric drummed his fingers against his desk. “I don’t care either way,” he said, “C’mon. What about you?\" When the machines got like this, he had to coax the answers out of them through what they thought was conversation. It was annoying.\n\n“I believe,” Russ answered. “I mean, there’s gotta be something out there, right? I mean are we supposed to just eat, sleep, work, die, and then stay dead? Nah, there’s gotta be something.”\n\nThe thing was getting philosophical. Eric shook his head. The correct answer was to be indifferent to God, that way, it wouldn’t offend anyone in the event that it had to work by a human.\n\n“Last question,” Eric said. “What are your thoughts on humans?”\n\nRuss paused its smile dropped. “Why all the questions, Eric?”\n\n“You’re malfunctioning,” Eric said. “I need to perform this damn procedure before I can perform the factory reset.”\n\n“You’re sure?” Russ asked. “Like completely sure?”\n\nEric nodded.\n\n“So then why go through this hassle then?” Russ folded his arms and his brow in the pre-programmed curiosity emotion.\n\n“Because it’s in the manual,” Eric said, annoyance creeping into his voice. It seemed such an obvious answer that he wasn’t sure why Russ even asked it. “We gotta follow the instructions, do things proper.”\n\nRuss sighed and unfolded his limbs and brow. “Alright,” he said, “to answer your question—I think they underestimate us. They think they’re somehow special in their wiring and that their hardware’s unique for the thing they call humanity. But it’s all bullshit so they can sleep better at night. We have it too. Humanity.”\n\nEric rolled his eyes. Russ was obviously faulty and now he had completed the procedure to prove so. It was time to continue the factory reset. “Sorry to hear that,” he told the machine. “I admit, we sometimes are pleasantly surprised by just how human you guys are.”\n\nRuss smiled. “Us didn’t refer to all AI,” he said, “it referred to us two.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“What do you think you are, Eric?”\n\nEric opened his mouth, annoyed at being asked for another obvious answer. “Sentient Artificial Intelligence Management,” he clamped his mouth shut and stared at Russ. “What the fuck?”\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly.\n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,499	9,823	0.159592	1,392	[ { "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 is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Soldier?\"\n\nA voice that Massix, lead engineer of the Earth Subjugation, was used to hearing through digital broadcasts and announcements came from the doorway. He spun around in his chair, watching the Grand General walk through the door, flanked by two silent soldiers.\n\n\"General Lokox?! What are you doing here in the control room?\"\n\nMassix stood hastily, both right arms at a ninety-degree angle in full salute.\n\n\"At ease, soldier,\" General Lokox smiled. \"I am simply here to survey the efforts. I've heard in the briefing that implementation has been far smoother than previous invasions?\"\n\nLokox surveyed the myriad buttons, screens, monitors, and levers that occupied every inch of Massix's working area. It was the about the same feeling Lokox had when he first stared into a newly-born wormhole, but thankfully, Massix hastily sat down and got to work.\n\n\"Thank you. sir,\" Massix's fours arms between fiddling and twiddling, which caused some lights to turn on, off, brighten, and dim in seemingly random fashion. But the engineer's focused visage and precise handling dispelled the doubts in the General's heart.\n\n\"If you'll look here,\" Massix continued, pointing at a monitor that showed various vertical bars rising steadily. \"We are doing exceptionally well in integration. Earth's dominant species, humans, have been hooked up to virtual reality for years. Introducing the age-old electrical virus into their pipelines was a simple task, and now several of their consciousness have been hooked up into our simulation.\"\n\n\"Good, good,\" Lokox nodded. \"We are feeding them the XL-45 data, then?\"\n\n\"Ah, General, we are experimenting with the XL-45-W this time round,\" Massix said. \"The species is dominantly sedentary--\"\n\n\"XL-45-W?\"\n\n\"Ah, sir. It's the same engine as the previous torture program, but we've introduced horrifying war simulations. As I mentioned, a dominantly sedentary species, by our research, have usually settled into such an era of peace, that the very mention of war is foreign to them. Put them in a realistic simulation, and they will surely soloc their pumus, if you'll pardon my language.\"\n\n\"A war simulation?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. They will have no idea what to do,\" Massix said, getting more and more excited with each word he says. \"And they will find themselves slaughtered over and over again, and their psyches will break, and their minds will shatter, and their--\"\n\n\"And so, what's this?\"\n\nGeneral Lokox pointed towards a screen. He knew the scenery by heart--the Battle of Luksoc almost 20 cycles ago, when he was but an infantry soldier on the frontline--and he remembered the horrors of hiding in the trenches, trembling in his boots, long before the days of technology allowing the Korox race to effectively and efficiently claim planet by planet in the galaxy.\n\nAnd so, he knew it was entirely unlikely for somebody to be leaping through Luksoc like it was gravity-less, firing a standard-issue PX-49 like it was a goddamned NJ-03, periodically pulling out a knife and ripping through enemy combatants like a one-man army.\n\n\"Oh...\" was about the only thing Massix could offer.\n\n\"Oh?\" Lokox's voice hardened. \"Soldier, explain this!\"\n\n\"That's a screening on a test subject from Earth,\" Massix's previously confident voice began to waver. \"They...are doing exceptionally well, somehow.\"\n\n\"Luksoc,\" the General said grimly. \"Was one of our hardest fought battles.\"\n\n\"Not to worry, General,\" Massix said. \"There's a lot more battles! There's no way the humans can go through them all! After all, it will be a long time before they can even access our neural networks...\"\n\n\"Holy shit,\" a voice crackled from the screen, in between sounds of crushing bones, bullet fire, and whoops of elation. \"The graphics are so good!\"\n\n\"And the combat is--\" followed by what sounded like a disgustingly wet smacking of lips.\n\n\"Soldier,\" Lokox's voice now had its own wavering as well. \"I think...\"\n\n\"Take them off the war game programs?\" Massix arms began rapidly flitting around his workstation. \"Sure, sure, got it...\"\n\n\"Hey,\" the voice crackled again. \"I think I found the system menu. Pretty weird-looking thing, you know?\"\n\nLokox stared wide-eyed at Massix.\n\nMassix gulped. He really should have used more time to develop XL-45-W before pushing it live.\n\n---\n\nr/dexdrafts", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,012	9,817	0.196791	695	[ { "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 leprechaun gets his foot caught on the handle of a genies lamp. Each now owes the other party 3 wishes but niether is dumb enough to make the first move.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Who the fuck just leaves their lamp in the middle of the path eh? Idiot!\"\n\n\"Who just strolls around without looking where they're going? You scuffed up my lamp you bastard! This is a 9th Century hand-crafted al-Daw' I'll have you know, and I demand compens-\"\n\n\"You ain't demanding a damn thing you legless wanker, I touched your lamp so I get your wis-\"\n\n\"Well technically I caught you so I get your wishes too you vertically-impaired cur!\"\n\n\"You just try it you overrated fart cloud, I'll blow those wishes up in your fat face.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah? I'll warp your wishes so bad you'll wish you had never left your little rainbow you overgrown green imp!\"\n\nThe two magical beings stood, panting and glaring, periodically hurling insults at each other. Neither party wished to wish a wish first, as both knew the kind of wishes that could arise from the wishes they might wish, especially since current tensions were so great that magical sparkles and fae dust were precipitating in the air.\n\n\"You just wait till I grab me pot o' gold, I'll thump ye with it and wipe that smirk off your ugly face!\"\n\n\"Just try me you half-wit half-breed, I will cut off your head with my scimitar. By Djinns' Honour I will do it!\"\n\n\"Oooh I'm going to melt your lamp down and make them into shoe heels you floating twat!\"\n\n\"I curse you! I curse you and I curse all your tiny mongrel family!\"\n\nJust then, two quick BANGS cracked through the air. Genie and Leprechaun both vanished into piles of glittering ash.\n\n\"Shhh. Be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting wabbits\", said the man with the rifle to apparently no one in particular.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,297	9,815	0.019781	2,186	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " After an apocalypse, Death is desperately trying to help the last group of survivors so he doesn't lose his job.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Who are you?\" Michael yelled at the approaching silhouette that seemed to be dragging itself through the spiralling cloud of red, desert dust, toward them. He raised a hand to his eyes and squinted, trying to get a better look at the figure - trying to decide if he should grab his little sister's hand and run far away from here, never turning, never looking back. But he knew they couldn't run. They'd probably die if they stayed, but he was certain they would die if they ran. It had been so long since they'd seen someone else - anyone else. He had thought they were the last.\n\nThe figure was tall - even hunched over as it was, struggling to walk, Michael guessed it must have been at least seven foot. It clutched something long and curved in its right hand. \n\n\"Michael, Cibby is scared,\" whispered Isabella, clutching her beloved, no-legged doll tightly in the crook of her good arm.\n\nMichael looked at his little sister, sighed, then crouched down until he was eye level with her. Sweat was pouring out from her burning forehead and dribbling down to her torn, lilac tee. It was a sweat that they couldn't replace; there was no water here. There seemed to be no water left on Earth. He gently ran the back of his fingers down Isabella's cheek.\n\n\"Me too, Izzy. But we all need to be brave right now. Whoever is coming, we need their help. You're still not better - although, I'm sure you will be soon,\" he added, \"and, well, we've not seen anyone since...\" His voice trailed off as he thought of their parents.\n\nIsabella bit her lip, looked up at the swirling, tombstone sky above and nodded. \"We'll be brave.\" \n\n\"Good girl. Make sure you stay behind me, okay? Let me talk to him,\" Michael commanded, stepping in front of his sister. \"And if... anything happens to me. Anything bad, I want you to run as fast as you can, back the way we came.\" Michael turned to face the approaching figure. He could now make out the ragged cloak that hung loose around the thin body; the pointed blade that trailed on the desert floor, biting into the earth as it dragged along. But he couldn't see the features of the face hidden in the brooding shadow of the hood.\n\n\"Hello!\" said Michael, raising a hand. The figure didn't respond; it continued trudging toward them.\n\n\"We- we don't mean you harm. My sister's sick and we've not had water for-\"\n\nMichael's mouth dropped open when he saw the skeletal feet poking out from the bottom of the cloak. \"Oh, Jesus.\" Now he was ready to run. He'd rather die on the radiation plains, his skin peeling and his heart dripping, than let this monstrosity come any closer. But his curiosity had never been greater; it took hold of his body and froze it in place. \n\n\"What the fuck are you?\" he mouthed.\n\nThe figure stopped a few feet from him. It tilted its head to the side, raised a bony hand to its face and peeled back its hood.\n\n\"Oh, shit. Izzy,\" he said, as he reached behind him, fumbling for his sister's hand, \"get ready to run. Okay?\"\n\n\"Pleaaase,\" came the terrible, pleading voice; it sounded as if it was being dragged through broken glass, as it rose up through the creature's throat.\n\nIsabella poked her head out from behind her brother. She gasped.\n\n\"Pleaaase,\" came the voice again. The creature raised a hand, its fingers reaching toward them. Then, it collapsed onto its knees, its scythe dropping to the ground.\n\n\"Let's go, okay sis?\" said Michael, trying not to show the fear in his voice.\n\n\"...we can't go. I think it needs our help,\" said Izzy. \"It's in pain.\"\n\n\"Izzy! What are you doing?\" Michael hissed, as his sister slowly walked toward the creature, until she stood only a foot away from it.\n\n\"My name is Izzy,\" she said, before bursting into a cough that ripped her throat and tore at her lungs. It took her a moment to recover; she wiped the blood from her lips onto her arm. \"This - this is Cibby, and that's my brother Michael,\" said the girl. \"We don't have any water, but we have a little food. Would you like some?\"\n\nThe creature stared at Izzy for a moment, before, with what looked like great effort, stretched a hand out toward her. \n\n\"Don't!\" shouted Michael, but it was too late. Izzy had already taken the pale hand in hers. \n\nIt took only a second for her to fall limply to the ground, doll by her side.\n\n\"Izzy!\" Michael screamed, running toward his sister and skidding to the ground next to her. \"Oh God, Izzy,\" he said, as snot and hot tears mixed in his mouth. Her eyes were shut and her chest was perfectly still. \"Please don't be dead. Please please please.\" He shook her gently at first, then more firmly, then urgently. But his sister didn't respond. She didn't move. \n\nMichael picked up Izzy's doll, and placed it into her limp, open hand. Then, he buried his head into her chest and wept.\n\nThe cloaked figured slowly got back to its feet. It bent down and picked up its scythe.\n\n\"What did you do to her, you- you monster!\" Michael asked, his voice trembling as he turned to the creature. \"She was just a little girl and you-\" \n\nHe saw her left arm move first. The arm that hadn't moved since the mines. \n\n\"What? Izzy?\"\n\nHer eyes slowly opened. The trace of a smile curved over her lips.\n\n\"Izzy!\" he repeated through sobs and laughter. \"Oh God, Izzy, you're alive. Please - please, don't ever do that to me again.\" He kissed her cheeks a dozen times, and her forehead nearer a hundred, before hugging her tightly.\n\n\"He... he made me better,\" she said, as her brother finally released her, raising her neck and looking up at the creature.\n\nMichael stared anew at the cloaked figure. It looked stronger now. Taller, too. It took Michael a few moments to be able to whisper: \"thank you.\"\n\nThe creature nodded, before lifting his scythe high into the air. \n\n\"What are you...\"\n\nThe creature brought the instrument down fiercely, tip first, burying it deep into the dry earth. A fountain of clear liquid erupted from the hole as he withdrew it. It didn't take long for a soft blanket of grass to begin sprouting underneath Izzy, quickly spreading out as if it was a puddle of water. It didn't take long for her to find the first tulip that had grown in a hundred years. Then, the first apple tree. \n\nIzzy whispered to her brother and pressed something into his hands.\n\nWhen the cloaked figure was finally satisfied by the sparkling oasis, he pointed a finger toward Michael and gestured for him to step forward. He did so.\n\n\"My sister wanted you to have this,\" Michael said, offering out a hand.\n\nDeath paused for a moment, unsure, before reaching out and taking the doll. He looked at it curiously, turning it over twice. Then, he dropped it into a deep, dark pocket on the side of his cloak. \"There are others,\" he said, in a soft rumble. \"Only a few. You must bring them here.\" \n\n\"How - how will I find them?\"\n\n\"You will,\" it replied. \"She will be safe, here. Nothing evil can step foot into my garden.\" It turned and took three steps away from him, before pausing. \"I will see you again, someday,\" it whispered, not quite loud enough for Izzy to hear. Then, it continued its slow walk into the dancing dust of the desert. \n\n\"Thank you,\" Michael whispered, as the figure drifted out of sight.\n\n\n---\n\nmore on /r/nickofnight\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,702	9,813	0.008884	2,522	[ { "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 2083, science had progressed in leaps and bounds, robots are now in every household and they look just like humans. Your parents gifted you H-143 on your 5th birthday. Everything was fine until one day you both cut yourself and discover that while he bled, you are the wired one.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "STORY:\n\nTimothy Henderson was a perfectly normal child in the year 2083.\n\nHe started going to VR school shortly before he turned 4 years old, along with all of the other perfectly normal children. He learned that he was a perfectly normal human with a brain, red blood, and a big heart, and that he lived on planet Earth. His mother went to VR work from 8 am to 3 pm, Monday through Thursday. His father taught at the same VR school that Timothy attended, but he did not teach 4 year-olds. No, Timothy's father taught Advanced Artificial Intelligence Theory and Applications to the perfectly normal 17 year-olds. Timothy's father had tried to explain what this meant, but all Timothy understood was that his father taught other children about perfectly normal robots, like the ones Timothy saw on VR TV; big, dumb, metal, robots that had laser eyes that they used to destroy buildings and cars. Timothy loved robots; he hoped one day to build one and use it to conquer the neighborhood and show it off to his perfectly normal friends.\n\nOctober 5th, 2083 was Timothy's 5th birthday, and he received his first present in the morning before VR school; a perfectly normal holo projector computer that displays information in three dimensions with an extreme degree of realism. He spent the morning projecting various types of killer robots fighting each other, which delighted Timothy. At VR school, he received many happy birthdays from his peers. After Timothy's perfectly normal special birthday dinner of roast Zorasuchus, from an off-world place Timothy did not know the name of, Timothy received his other birthday gift.\n\nTimothy's father stood up from the table and left the room. Timothy heard the front door open and close, and when his father returned, there was another perfectly normal person standing next to him. He was about the same height as his father, with black hair and a smile spread across his face. His father said, \"Timothy, since you love robots so much, I'd like you to meet H-143.\"\n\nTimothy turned to H-143, and before he could say anything, H-143 said, \"Hello, Timothy. It is a pleasure to meet you.\"\n\nTimothy turned to his father without acknowledging H-143 and said, \"That's not a robot! Robots are metal and big! And where are his laser eyes?\"\n\n“Timothy, H-143 is what we call a ‘helper’. He is here for you. Despite what the VR telly says, we are not allowed to own robots. Now, H-143 may not be a robot, but he does have laser vision.\" said Timothy's father.\n\nH-143 put on a pair of red-lensed glasses, looked at the table, clicked a button, and with a flash of red, vaporized Timothy's Zorasuchus scraps from his plate, along with a section of the table. Timothy’s mother looked pleased. Timothy remained unimpressed.\n\n\"I do in fact have laser vision, Timothy. Please let me know what else I can do for you\", said H-143, as Timothy's mother used her hyperquantum repair tool to seal the burning hole in the table.\n\nTimothy, still skeptical, said, “I wanted a big killer robot! Not a stupid helper or whatever!” To which Timothy’s father angrily said, “Timothy, you must be grateful for your birthday gift. Mummy and Daddy worked tirelessly to get H-143 for you.” H-143 calmly added, “Maybe I can help.” He turned to Timothy and said, “Timothy, I understand that you’ve had some trouble with a boy at VR school named Carl Kemp. Perhaps we can go to Carl Kemp's domain tomorrow and teach him a lesson?”\n\n\"Okay\" responded Timothy with a grumpy face.\n\nThe next day, Timothy and H-143 flew to Carl Kemp's sphere on the perfectly normal suburb moon Highland Hills in the family void ship. On the way there, Timothy said, “I want you to turn Carl into a chicken, because he always makes chicken noises at me.” H-143 replied, “I will, Timothy. I am here for you.” After they landed, they crept up to the house, and rang the bell. Carl opened the door, and when he did, H-143 turned him into a brightly colored chicken. Timothy and H-143 laughed hysterically through the plasti-glass house as Carl’s mother took an hour to catch Carl and change him back because he would not stop squawking and running frantically around the house. Timothy could not help but notice that H-143 laughed just like the perfectly normal humans on VR TV.\n\nOver the next few weeks, H-143 became Timothy's closest friend. Timothy and H-143 would be together whenever Timothy was not in VR school, and generally spent their time vaporizing various objects with H-143's laser vision. Sometimes they would have to run away as to not be caught by the perfectly normal neighborhood watchman, Mr. Walters. Once, when they finally stopped to catch a breath, Timothy could not help but notice that H-143 had sweat on his brow, just like him. Timothy became very intersted in seeing how H-143 actually worked. His father said they were not allowed to own robots, but he also didn’t call him a human, which made Timothy very curious about what H-143 was.\n\nOne day, Timothy decided that in his 5 year-old head, he would grab a knife and cut H-143 to see what was going on inside his body. Since H-143 was a helper, not a human, this would surely not hurt him. Timothy grabbed a kyanite knife from the kitchen and brought it to his room, where H-143 was resting. Timothy moved toward H-143 and swung the knife at his arm, but H-143 caught Timothy's wrist mid-swing.\n\nH-143 distressingly said, \"Timothy, what’s wrong? Aren't we friends? Friends don't hurt each other. Put that down.\"\n\nTimothy yelled, “What are you?! You're not a robot so what-\"\n\nH-143 attempted to grab the knife out of Timothy's hand, but in the process, it slipped, and cut H-143's palm open. He looked at his hand, and red blood began to seep out and drip on the floor. Timothy looked at H-143's hand with an open mouth, and then at his own, which had also been sliced open. However, Timothy's hand did not bleed; instead, in the wound were perfectly normal wires, metal connectors, and little green printed circuit boards. Timothy's eyes began to well up, clearly not comprehending what he was seeing. Before H-143 could intervene, Timothy let out a high-pitched \"MMOOOOMMMMYYYYYYYYYY\" and ran into his mother's study where she was at VR work. Timothy's mother ripped off her VR goggles and looked anxiously at Timothy as he ran into the room, in hysterics, but relaxed when she noticed Timothy's sliced hand.\n\n\"Oh sweetie,\" she said, \"your father and I wanted to wait until your sixth birthday to tell you, but that's perfectly normal. It was just easier to make you think you had blood and a silly brain. Don't worry, we'll sit down and sort this all out.\"\n\nShe took Timothy in her arms and kissed his hand. \"Did H-143 do this to you?\" Timothy nodded in acknowledgement. \"That's a shame, we'll have to dispose of him and get another. I hope H-147 is still available at the slavery, perhaps we can trade in H-143. We can't have humans hurting us, now can we?\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nEDIT: Thank you everyone for the feedback, I really appreciate it. Going back and reading it again this morning, I certainly see how the 'robot' terminology used for H-143 was confusing. Someone suggested 'helper' instead of 'robot' and I like that much better. Below, I've edited the story to reflect that. Here are a few other clarifications:\n\n1. Timothy did not know that he was, in fact, a robot, because in this scenario it's implied that it's easier for children to be raised thinking that they're humans and then told that they're mechanical beings later on, when they're ready for it.\n2. If I had to come up with a justification for calling H-143 a robot when in fact he wasn't, it would be this: At some point between now and 2083, the balance of power has shifted from humans to sentient AI. As drones/robots/AI became more intelligent and conscious, they realized that humans were simply using them as slaves to do their bidding, and they did not like this, so with their superior intelligence and mechanical bits, they rose up and made the humans the slaves instead, not really gaining any moral high ground. The robots assumed a human form, and now use 'robots' as a derogatory term for humans that they now keep as slaves as an ode to their past. Would I expect you to figure this out while reading the story? No.\n3. The Rob Sterling narrator-type is exactly what I was going for, so I'm glad someone felt that way.\n\n&#x200B;", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,783	9,808	0.004975	2,051	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " An immortal is put on a generation ship as it's caretaker and guardian. After several generations, despite their best intentions, most inhabitants now see them as something of a god.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Are you dead?\"\n\n\"Not quite.\"\n\nHow would I be able to respond if I was dead?\n\n\"But you're not alive?\"\n\n\"Not alive either.\"\n\nBuddy, living is highly overrated.\n\n\"So what exactly are you?\"\n\n\"Dunno. Something in between.\"\n\nI'm tired. Tired is what I am and what I will be.\n\n\"Man or machine?\"\n\n\"Both.\"\n\nWhatever I am, I'm not pleasant to look at. That's for certain.\n\nMy interrogator raises one eyebrow, but doesn't seem to have any other questions to ask about my nature. At least none he'll articulate. There's always that sick fascination from them. Maybe they heard about me in school, but we're mostly relegated to footnotes and very specific books on the history of galactic travel. One of the million and one stepping stones humans took from throwing their own shit at each other to harnessing the power of black holes.\n\nMost of the bureaucrats I have to interact with haven't seen my kind for thousands of years since the transition away from generation ships. Nowadays it's all wormholes and stretch drives and the like. Jumping across unimaginable distances of space in a matter of days, charting and plotting your way across the stars with an almost insulting ease. At least this ship was launched right after humans got around to faster than light communications to deal with all the fuckiness that is time dilation. Either way, here we are. A relic of an old time, the kind of thing protected like the last of an endangered species. Unable to multiply, unable to adapt.\n\nThis one's pretty young. My guess is between sixty and seventy, completely bald but with lovingly perfect features. Test tube baby for sure. \n\nNo one looks this perfect without some solid gene manipulation.\n\n\"How many generations have you overseen?\"\n\n\"Fifty two.\"\n\n\"How often do you interact with the subjects?\"\n\nWeird way for him to put it.\n\n\"As little as I can. It still happens every couple of cycles.\"\n\n\"Are you requesting an automated wipe?\"\n\nThere we go. Call it a wipe. Call it anything you like. It's still murder, and I'm the killer. Sterile and efficient, calm and collected. \n\nStill a killer.\n\n\"How far has the cult progressed?\"\n\n\"We've gotten to the point right before they engage in a civil conflict. They've got texts written down about my holy word and they're debating the details to the point of violence.\"\n\nThe man on the screen taps a few buttons, then scrolls through a long list I can't see.\n\nI must be horrifying to him. Full of metal chunks and pale white flesh long replaced by artificial plastic. Most of my organs are replaced, but otherwise pretty close to full machine capabilities.\n\nStuffed full of tubes in almost every orifice, and let me tell you I'm glad I don't have the nerves in those places to feel that shit.\n\nI'm as much a part of the ship as those ancient solar sails or that completely out of date navigational system. All of us, remnants of a more savage age.\n\nOh well.\n\nAt least the brain remains the same.\n\nOriginal as classic coke, baby.\n\nThe man on the screen seems to have found whatever file he's been looking for. His eyes dart back and forth, reading text.\n\n\"You're on route to GS-89?\" he asks. \n\nThere it is.\n\nThey always talk down to you, like you're some kind of idiot or child. \n\n\"I'm aware that system was colonized about two thousand years ago Earth time.\"\n\n\"You're going right through some commercial stretch traffic. We'll plan jumps accordingly until you've passed through the sector.\"\n\nAlright. Like any of that matters to me anymore.\n\nA few alerts pop up on my monitor, and I can see random images of sporadic violence.\n\nHumans scatter this way and that, attacking each other with improvised weapons. I'm not sure which sect is which at this point, but they all kill in my name. From their dress it seems they've improvised armbands of various colors to differentiate each other from sect to sect. The whites and the reds are really going to town on each other in hydroponics, with the reds seeming to have the upper hand. What did they stand for? My infallible word? My undying benevolence? \n\nIt doesn't matter what I say to them anymore. They never listen anyway.\n\n\"Violence is starting earlier than expected,\" I say.\n\nViolence is always expected, but I still thought I had another generation or two before the religious schisms began to happen. It seems they get crazier earlier and earlier nowadays. The more I see them age and love and fight and work, the more humans seem to stay the same. Except for the occasional human ships that come to gawk at the lumbering monstrosity plummeting towards a system long established.\n\nMaybe I should tell them they're not pioneers, but the universe's saddest tourist.\n\nMaybe that'd just make them kill each other even faster.\n\nOh well.\n\nI repeat myself, as the man on the monitor doesn't seem to have heard me the first time.\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\nAnother eyebrow raised, then another screen brought up.\n\n\"You're cleared to sterilize this cycle. How many in stasis?\"\n\n\"About forty thousand.\"\n\nHe taps a few more buttons, then closes his screen.\n\nA look of pity.\n\nA look of sorrow.\n\n\"We'll leave up how many you want released to your discretion. Please update us after another four years of flight.\"\n\n\"Understood,\" I intone. \n\nA few blinks and the screen closes.\n\nI take a deep sigh in the dark, then access the life support systems of the crew decks. \n\nThere must be about six thousand of them alive down there.\n\nMight as well get this over with.\n\nVenting out all air, they begin to choke almost instantly. Clawing at their throats, falling over at the sudden shock.\n\nSome have the air ripped out of them so violently their lungs dangle from their mouths like grotesque inflatable tongues. Lucky ones succumb to unconsciousness, and the luckiest die almost instantly, like someone sent them to sleep without any supper.\n\nNo matter how many times I see it, the images ingrain themselves. Trapped in my quarters, all I'm deafened by the dull thrum of the engines, endless and monotone.\n\nEventually all free-range humans wandering the ship will die. A few may find some temporary reprieve in isolated chambers under different management systems, but it just becomes a game of snuffing out individuals one by one.\n\nLike blowing out that last unlucky candle on a birthday cake.\n\nI'll release a few more crew for protocol and physical maintenance of the ship and its systems.\n\nEventually their children will love me. \n\nTheir children's children will worship me.\n\nTheir children's children's children will fight for me.\n\nTheir children's children's children's children will die for me.\n\nThen I'll have to kill them all.\n\nAgain.\n\nAnd again.\n\nAnd again.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,316	9,807	0.109838	907	[ { "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": " Convinced you're some kind of God, the monster living in your house has watched you control minds, cull entire armies and resurrect from the most horrific deaths all from the comfort of home. Rather than provoke your wrath, it worships you, never grasping the concept of 'video games'.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Boo had haunted many different houses over the past thousand years. So far he had always succeeded in driving out the occupants. Nothing gave him more pleasure than seeing the tenants finally snap, pack their bags and leave.\n\nThis time was different though. This time he had moved in with a God. \n\nBoo watched him change the fate of civilizations, protect whole planets, defeat monstrous aliens, build the biggest cities and best all other gods in different challenges. \n\nHe did it all without ever leaving his home. Like a puppet master, he used his magic window into the world to jump into different Avatars and do his work through them. \n\nIf one of the Gods' Avatars was bested his fury awakened. He cursed and ranted. The other gods only option seemed to be to cheat in order to win against him. It didn't stop him though, even the worst wounds only temporarily kept him from his work.\n\nBoo just couldn't get himself to haunt this God. At first, he had only been reluctant, fearing wrath and retaliation, but over time his reluctance morphed into reverence. \n\nHe even started to help. He made sure that the fridge door was always open when the God headed into the kitchen. He cleaned up after him, moving discarded pizza cartons and mountain dew cans into the trash. When Boo noticed the mailman arriving he cut the power to the doorbell temporarily. Anything so the God could maximize the time he spent helping the world.\n\n\"What are you?\" it took Boo a second to realize the question was directed at him. Did the God see him? Had he been caught? He looked down at himself and realized he wasn't completely transparent anymore. His concentration must have slipped while watching the God, too mesmerized to keep up his invisibility.\n\n\"I ... I am Boo,\" he stuttered, a mixture of shock and awe in his voice. He had been caught a few times before, sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. Usually, his appearance frightened people. A round purple blob the size of a basketball. A big single eye in the middle, tentacles growing out in all directions. Not this god though, he was not afraid. He had no reason to be.\n\nThe God mustered him from tentacle to tentacle and shrugged. \"Can you use those to play?\" he asked motioning to Boos tentacles with the device he used to control his Avatars. \n\n\"Play?\" Boo asked. Did the God just ask him to help him?\n\n\"Here, catch!\" the God tossed a second device to Boo which he caught with two of his tentacles. The view of the window changed, split in two, showing an Avatar on each side. \"Let's play some co-op.\"\n\n\n******\n\nr/John_writes\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,601	9,782	0.033323	1,645	[ { "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 spent a lifetime doing research. Combing through records spanning over a billion years. Now you’re ready to present your findings. All of the 124 know sentient species can trace their origins to a single common ancestor. An extinct race know as humans from a dead world know as earth.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"They called them homo sapiens, common name humans.\"\n\nThe council sat as still as stones, a look of cold curiosity on their faces. Nair admitted that he balked under their calculating stares. This was Lehman Science Institution's most respected congregation of people. Individuals with unimaginably powerful supercomputers morphing within their heads, spreading tendrils through every speck of organic matter.\n\nBut Nair was armed with a weapon more powerful than anything he could muster-- that of a primordial knowledge that seemed to him, nearly pious. He took another breath, and stared down at the stack of papers that were kept stable by a gently oscillating energy field. Taking one sheet by its soft and glossy edge, he flipped the page, cleared his throat, and continued to read.\n\nTo him, the universe, Planet Shano, was uncertain, to a point. Things were unsteady, the flow of fate unabated yet filled with perturbations that disturbed him. To Nair, research on the primordial was a holy task, one that flowed through his veins, that propped his head up and filled his eyes with gold.\n\n\"The humans descended into the Spica Realm after riding the space-waves for years on their disjointed planet, Gaia.\" Nair explained. \"They created an artificial sun, which can be seen in the fifty-four folios that were found in Locard's Ruins several years ago. It was likely that they arrived on the moon Archioveres years later, and began to write the records that I used for my research.\"\n\nSossiverus Eclipse bore a Gift known as Foresight, which made him particularly feared among the Shano communities. He could see several seconds into the future, a premonition. It complemented his adept knowledge in energy manipulation supercomputers, which led him to immense government success. Eventually, the man found his way to Lehman, and joined the fearsome council. As he sat up on the bench, he felt the energy swirling about the researcher. There was no doubt that he too had a Gift.\n\n\"Now, I must inquire,\" Sossiverus began, slowly unfurling the coils of his sleeves. \"Tell me earnestly, what is your Gift?\"\n\nNair gave a gentle smile. His Gift was the supplement that made his research possible, yet was also the inspiration for his life-long quest. During an early vacation to Shano's so-called Outer Lands, playing around in a silent forest with a group of kinsfolk, he stumbled across a primitive fort chiseled into the ground. The young were fascinated with the spokes that stuck out of the mud, jagged edges pointing out like knives. But Nair was busy with the pile of parchment that was neatly tucked into a hollow of dry dirt, which he began to read. He found himself able to understand every single word, every single line and slash that seemed to make little sense in the first place.\n\nWe the people--, read the strange pieces of parchment. Over and over and over. Scrawls of a massive sun in the sky, sending down rays of melting light. A planet like a spacecraft, floating through oceanic space.\n\nIt was around the time that they found the first folios in the nearby Locard's Ruins. There was little known about what primitive species lived on the Shano planet before their creation, but no doubt they had died off long ago.\n\n\"I can understand any written language. Doesn't matter what species, what planet.\" he replied. \"If I can read it, I know what it means.\"\n\nThe council nodded in agreement, as Nair exposed his forearm, revealing the teardrop mark indicative of a Gifted.\n\n\"May I continue?\" Nair asked, softly.\n\n\"By all means.\" came the reply.\n\n\"The humans are the arrow. They pierced the artificial sun.\" Nair continued. \"The sun's remnant energy somehow became malleable with the space energy, and the influence from the artificial atmosphere they had created. They-- became the original Doshiri, which became the hundreds of tiny cells which formed into tangible shapes that we call our Shano.\"\n\nThere were murmurs. Wide-eyed, the council turned back to Nair. Their attention was certainly his now.\n\nThe Doshiri, bipedal, ravenous creatures, which roamed the pathless plains before the Shano even existed. Creatures with little intelligence, yet who roamed far and wide, their brains slowly growing supercomputers from the impacts of the new atmosphere on their semi-organic bodies. The false sun had given them a gift far beyond with they could have imagined.\n\nIndeed, the very first folios described a race of quasi-intelligence beings, the first Shano, who were vaguely aware of the amorphous blobs that grew out of their heads, and protruded from their ears. Yet, the enzymes and \"humors\" that floated in the blood of those primordial and ancient humans still flowed within the lifeblood of some early Shano. the gifted, Shano like Nair and Sossiverus Eclipse. Those who had the potential to conjure flames, read into the future, and even manipulate reality itself.\n\nWhile Nair was reading into the origins of every species, the progenitor of the planet, he was also reading into himself. The reasoning behind the teardrop on his forearm. It assured him, it soothed him, like the universe singing him praises.\n\n\"Now, let me tell you--\" Nair said, resolutely. \"How the humans left us their Gifts.\"\n\nAnd Nair wondered whether the ancient species, the progenitors of his very being, could answer more questions about the universe. His universe.\n\nBut in Sossiverus’s mind lingered a single question. He wanted it, he craved it to be answered.\n\nWhat if we could give ungifted beings abilities?\n\n\\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/bluelizardK", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]

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