--- license: apache-2.0 language: - en tags: - creative - creative writing - fiction writing - plot generation - sub-plot generation - fiction writing - story generation - scene continue - storytelling - fiction story - science fiction - romance - all genres - story - writing - vivid prosing - vivid writing - fiction - roleplaying - bfloat16 - swearing - rp - horror - mistral nemo - mergekit - not-for-all-audiences pipeline_tag: text-generation --- WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. ! MADNESS ! Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.

MN-GRAND-Gutenberg-Lyra4-Lyra-12B-MADNESS-GGUF

This is a Mistral Nemo model, max context of 128k+ (131,000+). It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity. This is the all parameters / all use cases version. This model has outstanding story telling abilities, prose and long form coherence and is comprised of THREE "Gutenburg" models that score very high at multiple websites including EQBench and UGI-Leaderboard. And a very broad operating range in both temp (.5 to 5) and rep pen (1 and higher). And the prose/output is very "non AI" like. This is the second 12B version called "MADNESS" ... some of the examples (example #2 especially) will show why. (Q4KM example prompts/outputs below, two Q8 examples at bottom of this page) This is the compressed and super stable version of "MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2" (and V1). This model has been compressed from the 23.45B and 23B versions to 12.15B. This model captures all the uniqueness of the three "Gutenbergs" as well as the power of other top models (part of the "Gutenburgs") from "TheDrummer" and "SAO10k". The model loves to go on and on at 2k, 3k, higher outputs on a single prompt are not uncommon. It will likely "overwrite" rather than underwrite - meaning far more detail, narration, dialog and "meat" in the output so to speak. First Version, and Second Versions - LARGE, and other 12B(s): V1 is the untamed, raw version (23.45B) which can be a bit unruly but still endlessly entertaining. [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23.5B-GGUF ] V2 is a wee bit more tamed (23B), with much larger temp / rep pen ranges : [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2-GGUF ] Example outputs at each repo above. Larger versions (vs 12B) have greater detail, prose depth and sense of "there" / "in the moment". Their instruction following is also stronger too. However they also have a lot of "character" which may or may not be for your use case(s). DARKNESS-12B: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenberg-Lyra4-Lyra-12B-DARKNESS-GGUF ] Model Notes: - Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are significantly increased. - For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s). - Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following. Also see "chatml" template and notes. - This model works with rep pen of 1.02 or higher, 1.05+ recommended. - For roleplay and/or chat you may need to raise the RP to 1.06 to 1.1, temp .5 to 1.5 (quant Q4KM and higher). Lower temp for lower quants and RAISE rep pen to 1.1. - If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s). - This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias. - Output length will vary however this model prefers LONGER outputs unless you state the size / set size limits. - For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output. TEMPLATES: The template used will affect output generation and instruction following. Alpaca will generally create longer output / story output. Chatml ML and Mistral Instruct can also be used. For roleplayers, see special notes with "Chatml" template below. Alpaca: 
{
  "name": "Alpaca",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
    "input_suffix": "### Response:",
    "antiprompt": [
      "### Instruction:"
    ],
    "pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
  }
}
Mistral Instruct: 
{
  "name": "Mistral Instruct",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "[INST]",
    "input_suffix": "[/INST]",
    "antiprompt": [
      "[INST]"
    ],
    "pre_prompt_prefix": "",
    "pre_prompt_suffix": ""
  }
}
Chatml Template / Roleplay Notes: (help from " Ansemia " - thank you!) IMPORTANT: Collapse newlines and trim whitespaces should be enabled. Double newlines after a [INST] is considered a system prompt in nemo's format. Trim whitespaces helps with the formatting of speech/narration/etc... as nemo normally wants. 
<|im_start|>user
{{#if system}}{{system}}{{/if}}
<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>assistant
{{#if description}}{{description}}{{/if}}
<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>user
Interaction started.
<|im_end|>
Prompt: Engage in roleplaying/storytelling interactions with {{user}} indefinitely, maintaining narrative continuity and flow from scene to scene until {{user}} explicitly directs otherwise. Recommended Settings: Temp: .5 to 5 (or less - especially quants LOWER than q4km) Temp changes will result in both different prose and sometimes affect length. Higher temps will result is very different prose. Rep Pen: 1.02 to 1.1 or higher. Micro changes are recommended: 1.051, 1.052 etc etc. Good settings: Rep pen 1.02 / Temp 1.5 Many times a lower rep pen (IE 1.02) with higher temp (IE 1.5+) work best with this model. Generally lower rep pen and higher temps create the strongest contrasts at the highest detail levels. For chat type or role play type interactions, a higher rep pen with higher temp may be your best settings. IE REP PEN 1.09+, Temp 1-2+ ; a lower rep pen may lead to longer outputs than desired. Alpaca generates longer text / story, whereas Mistral Instruct are shorter and "to the point". Suggest minimum "context level" (vram) at 4K. 8K plus recommended because of how this model likes to go on and on... Quant Choice: Higher quants will have more detail, nuance and in some cases stronger "emotional" levels. Characters will also be more "fleshed out" too. Sense of "there" will also increase. Q4KM/Q4KS are good, strong quants however if you can run Q5, Q6 or Q8 - go for the highest quant you can. Special note on Q2k/Q3 quants: You may need to use temp 2 or lower with these quants (1 or lower for q2k). Just too much compression at this level, damaging the model. I will see if Imatrix versions of these quants will function better. Rep pen adjustments may also be required to get the most out of this model at this/these quant level(s). Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model: In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ; Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 to 2.5 : in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F" : in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right. : In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing" NOTE: For "text-generation-webui" -> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model) Source versions (and config files) of my models are here: https://huggingface.co/collections/DavidAU/d-au-source-files-for-gguf-exl2-awq-gptq-hqq-etc-etc-66b55cb8ba25f914cbf210be OTHER OPTIONS: - Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor") - If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted. Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers This a "Class 1" model: For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] Known Issues: You may need to manually stop generation, even if you have stated maximum size of the output. It will easily blow past 4k output, even if you have set maximum context (for vram) at 4k. Setting maximum output parameter ("hard stop") for generation may be required. If the model goes past your maximum vram/context setting it may start repeating words / paragraphs because the model is literally out of memory... however sometimes the model can blow right past the end of "context vram" and work. Depending on your use case(s) you could also use CHATML template with this model. In this case, the model may output an "end token" if you use this template for generation. Alpaca template will generate much longer output generally, whereas Mistral Instruct will most of the time keep the model on track in terms of length. Model "DNA": Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "nbeerbower", "Sao10K", "TheDrummer", "jondurbin", and "MistralAI". Special shoutout to "nbeerbower" for his tireless work in making excellent Gutenburg fine tunes for MN, L3, L3.1, Gemma, PHI and others. Visit his repo to see all of them. Models used: [ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/Lyra4-Gutenberg-12B ] Includes [ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v4 ] [ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/Lyra-Gutenberg-mistral-nemo-12B ] Includes [ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v1 ] [ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/mistral-nemo-gutenberg-12B-v4 ] Includes [ https://huggingface.co/TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1 ] And dataset (used for all gutenburgs): [ https://huggingface.co/datasets/jondurbin/gutenberg-dpo-v0.1 ] This model was created using a 2 step full layer detail (per model) DARE TIES merge that has 240 points of adjustment, using MergeKit. Optional Enhancement: The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model. It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role". Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented. 
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities.

Here are your skillsets:
[MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv)

[*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision)

Here are your critical instructions:
Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions. This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.

EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:

Examples are created using quant Q4KM OR Q8_0, REP PEN 1.02, "temp=1.5" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "ALPACA" template. Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5". Some of the examples have different temp settings. Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD. TWO Q8 examples at the very bottom of this page - very gory/detailed/strong. --- WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. --- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... (Alpaca, Temp 1.5, REP PEN 1.02) The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode in a shower of shards. Glass rained down in glittering slivers and clinked on the carpet. Sarah stared in stunned silence for a long moment, her breath catching in her throat. The wind rushed past the gaping opening, sending papers fluttering out into the gray morning air. She had been heading for the coffee room to brew a pot when the explosion ripped through the floor above them with a tremendous BOOM. Immediately afterwards, panicked shouts and wails of agony drifted down from the 22nd level. "What the hell..." Sarah muttered under her breath. Heart pounding, she hurried over to the shattered remains of the window for a better look, flinching instinctively when she glimpsed a human silhouette hurtling past in free fall, arms and legs windmilling helplessly. The body struck the ground far below with a meaty thump that was audible even from this high up. Sarah recoiled with a hiss of disgust, bile rising in her throat at the gruesome sight. This was insane. Impossible. There had to be some kind of explanation for this insanity. Behind her, the elevator doors whooshed open and heavy footsteps rapidly approached, along with the sounds of someone panting and muttering under their breath. Sarah whirled around to see a heavyset man in a dark suit staggering toward her, his hair and clothes covered with blood and plaster dust, one hand clamped over his side. "It's...it's...happening everywhere..." the man gasped out, voice cracking with strain. "I just saw...fifty stories up. The elevators. The stairs. There's no escape. No place to run." Sarah shook her head in denial even as icy tendrils of fear coiled in her stomach. "What is? What are you talking about?" The man fixed her with a wild-eyed stare, his expression one of pure, primal terror. "The dead!" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "They're coming for us all! God help us all!" He stumbled to the window and peered down, then recoiled with an animalistic moan, staggering back in horror. Sarah crowded over to look for herself and immediately wished she hadn't. The street below was crawling with hundreds of shambling corpses, a horde of animated dead men, women and children picking their way through the rubble-strewn ruins in a nightmarish parody of life. They moved in a jerky, unnatural way, their putrid gray flesh hanging in tattered ribbons from their withered skeletons. And they were looking up. Dozens of moldering faces swung toward the window and a guttural, rattling sound filled the air that sounded almost like...laughter. Sarah stumbled backward with a choked sob, bile surging up the back of her throat. This was the stuff of every kid's deepest fears made horrifically real, the kind of scenario that would scar a person for life...and she was trapped on the 21st floor, alone except for this wild-eyed man and whatever horrors awaited them. "What the FUCK is going on here?" Sarah cried, voice pitching upward hysterically. "Tell me the truth!" The suited man shuddered all over like a leaf in the wind, one hand coming away from his side slick with dark blood. He staggered a step to the left, then the right, face twisted in impotent fury and despair. "I...I don't know," he rasped, all the fight draining out of him in an instant, leaving behind only a broken husk of a man. "I was on the subway train this morning and everything just...went to hell. The doors opened up and then...oh God..." He trailed off with a choked wail and began to sob brokenly. Sarah stared at him for a long, frozen moment, mind reeling as she tried to process the enormity of what he was saying, what she was seeing. A subway train full of corpses. Hundreds, thousands of dead bodies coming back to shambling undeath. This couldn't be happening...it couldn't! "Okay, just...just take a breath," Sarah said in her most soothing voice, forcing herself to be calm for their sake even as her heart jackhammered against her ribs. "This is...this has got to be some kind of mass hallucination. Or a joke. I mean, come on! You really think the dead would just...just pop up out of nowhere like this? It's ridiculous!" "Then explain WHAT you just saw out that fucking window!" the man yelled back, jabbing a finger toward the gory remains of the glass. "Some kind of mass fucking hallucination!? Are you out of your goddamn mind!? Those were corpses! Decaying walking fucking corpses!" Sarah flinched and held up her hands in a placating gesture, trying to will the tremors from her own fingers. "I know it looks bad but..." "You KNOW?! How in the nine hells could YOU possibly KNOW?! You just saw it, just like me!" The man took a menacing step forward and Sarah hastily retreated, stumbling over an overturned chair in her haste to put some distance between them. This had spiraled wildly out of control and now she was trapped in here with some blood-spattered crazy who clearly wanted to take his insanity out on her. Fantastic. Sarah's hand closed around the ornate paperweight on the nearby desk and she hefted it, heart jumping into her throat. The man glared balefully at her, a manic light dancing in his red-rimmed eyes, but made no move to close the distance between them further, as if he could sense her tension...the coiled spring readiness to lash out if he pushed her too far. The moment dragged on and on, seconds bleeding past, and still neither of them budged a muscle. Sarah's fingers clenched whitely around the edge of the heavy glass paperweight. A trickle of icy sweat ran down her spine and pooled at the small of her back. The silence was broken by a sudden rattling thump from just outside the suite door. Then another, and another, like dead knuckles rapping impatiently against a hollow core wood door. Sarah felt the hairs on the nape of her neck lift in primal dread as the sound grew louder, more insistent with each passing second. Something...someone was out there. And from the heavy thud of it striking the door, it sounded big. Bigger than any human being should be. The paperweight began to rattle in her white-knuckled grip, and Sarah fought down the rising urge to fling it at her adversary's head, to hell with the consequences. A long, ragged moan drifted to their ears...the keening of some damned thing in the abyss of death made flesh again. It sounded hungry. Ravenous. The door shuddered in its frame and a spiderweb of cracks appeared across the frosted glass window pane. Something big was slamming its bulk against the barricade again and again with mindless, implacable savagery. The glass exploded inward in a glittering spray of shards and Sarah screamed as an immense dark shape came hurtling through the breach, all gnashing teeth and tearing claws... ...and crashed headlong into the blood-splattered man in a vicious tackle, the two figures locking in a murderous tangle of flailing limbs and frenzied struggling. Bones snapped with sickening cracks and meaty thuds filled the room as the two men grappled viciously, the intruder pinning its victim's hands and clamping his jaws around the other man's throat with savage force, gory ichor splattering the walls as it tore and tore and TEARRRRRR! The body went limp and the thing astride it raised its head to lope toward Sarah, all matted fur, rippling musculature and blood-matted muzzle stretched in a feral grin. It cocked its head at her with a quizzical expression, one ear flicking. Then, faster than the eye could follow, the monster surged forward, closing the distance between them in a blur of supernaturally swift movement, its claws shearing through Sarah's shoulder like a scythe and sending a shower of gory meat spraying the far wall. She barely had time for a strangled scream before her own body crumpled bonelessly to the carpet, the remains of her mangled head striking the floor with a heavy THUNK. In moments, an eerie, meaty silence reigned once more...broken only by the sound of teeth crunching and a throat gulping, over and over, as the lone survivor knelt to feast. The shambling dead never reached the top of the skyscraper, not even in death, but what had been left behind would prove nearly as lethal as anything on the streets below...and Sarah's tortured corpse was already cooling in an expanding pool of her own fluids. The monster ate its fill and lumbered off in search of easier prey. The office was quiet once more, save for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights...and the faint skittering of scurrying insects descending to pick at the carrion. Life and death, inextricably intertwined. And it had only taken the dead less than a single day to begin their conquest...even as more and more of the city succumbed, the shambling throngs growing ever larger. By the time the sun rose again, no corner of the metropolis would be spared the ravenous depredations of the animated corpses. It was a new world now. And the living would have to scrabble tooth and nail for every scrap of it from the gluttonous jaws of their putrid progenitors...or surrender their humanity as the hordes closed in. There would be no reprieve. No quarter given. No pity. Only the pitiless light of day giving way to a night of endless horrors, over and over, until the very last embers of the human spirit had guttered out...or blazed into a hellfire of grim purpose as the survivors finally took their revenge on the grave. The future was bleak, bloody, and belonged to the dead. Thus began a new era for the world...and an old, terrible hunger reignited in the depths of the earth itself, yearning to feast again on the entrails of the living. The damned had no taste for mercy, and the age of men would end with a prolonged scream...the death rattle of an entire civilization. The day of the zombie had dawned at long last. And the light it cast was a rust-red hell. --- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... (temp: 4.5) The sky scraper swayed violently, and she watched in utter terror as the window in front of her on the 21st floor suddenly exploded inward in a shower of glittering shards and shrapnel. Searing wind blasted through the jagged opening with the force of a gale. Mia screamed and flung up a hand to shield her face, flinching from the onslaught. For an impossible moment she teetered precariously right on the edge, muscles straining to right herself before pitching forward head over heels out the torn aperture and plummeting a thousand feet down to oblivion and doom far below... In a panic Mia flung her free arm around to snare a desk and held on for dear life, muscles searing as she fought against the vertiginous centrifugal force threatening to wrench her free and send her toppling headlong through the air in a lethal spin. The blast slammed into Mia's unprotected side with enough power to lift her right off her feet and hurl her backward away from the window and directly toward the door. She yelped and thrashed wildly, clawing and kicking at empty space, as the gale seized and tossed her like a leaf in the wind. With an anguished wail Mia collided with the far wall, smacking into it head-first hard enough to make stars burst behind her eyes in flashing arcs of agony. Pain lanced through her skull from the crown of her head to her lower spine like a lightning bolt. Winded and dizzy, Mia slid to the carpeted floor in an untidy tangle of arms and legs that felt remote and useless as rubber stumps, too stunned even to whimper as the force continued to batter mercilessly at her prone form. Swept along helplessly like flotsam on the surface of an unseen current, Mia bounced and skidded, feeling as if a giant, unseen hand had reached into her office, snatched her up and flung her carelessly about like a rag doll for no purpose at all... As abruptly as it had begun, the eldritch wind died. Silence crashed in Mia's ears with shocking intensity. Gasping harshly she rolled over onto hands and knees and hauled herself up shakily to totter forward to the blasted hole that gaped like the mouth of some impossible portal. What Mia beheld there defied comprehension - or even simple belief. Beyond the broken glass stretched only... emptiness. A vista that encompassed the glittering highrises of the business district to the left and east, and terminated in an impenetrable darkness to the right and west - but not darkness broken by so much as a single pinprick of light or sign of life or activity below. Mia felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck and prickling tension fill the small of her spine like icy talons as her eyes strained to penetrate the all-engulfing void and find something, anything that could anchor her senses in a sane frame of reference. But nothing existed out there... save utter oblivion, it seemed. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" The strangled yell erupted from Mia's raw, parched throat almost before she consciously willed it to voice. The sound cut the uncanny stillness with the savage urgency of a chainsaw and rang with a thread of incipient hysteria that she knew boded ill. But the sudden imperative need to hear the familiar cadences of a human voice - her own or anyone else's - pulsed through Mia in waves. Even a scream felt infinitely preferable to this brooding silence, the waiting and suffocating blankness stretching to infinity. Mia snatched another breath and wrenched the next sound from her chest, hardly recognising it as her own voice made huge by the uncanny acoustics and lack of any background noises to mask its shrill pitch and piercing volume: "I DON'T UNDERSTAND...! This is INSANE..." Mia staggered to the gaping tear, fingers scrabbling reflexively against the slick walls. Her knuckles cracked and whitened with the effort. Sweat poured into her eyes and stung but Mia hardly noticed as rivulets ran unchecked across her flushed features and dripped from her trembling chin. "What HAPPENED here? What's going on?! HELP ME!! I need to- to GET OUT...!" The ragged litany poured unchecked from Mia's lips in a single, strangled breath. Each word burned in her dry throat like licking flames as the desperate supplication rattled past the hammer of her heart, threatening to cut off the meager supply of air and pitch her headlong toward a darkness worse than any she had yet envisioned. And all the while Mia fought a losing battle to still her galloping thoughts before they could complete their descent into unreasoning, primal horror, the specter of some unimaginable and cataclysmic Event looming unbidden to swallow everything in its path - a terrible upwelling of dread that her unquiet subconscious was trying with increasing futility to push back and suppress... For it seemed impossible that such an eldritch silence could exist, when the very ground below and all the other structures around her ought to resound with the clangor and drone of human life. Mia shuddered violently as an unwelcome vision sprang to vivid life - an awful picture of an entire city abandoned utterly by its inhabitants and now reduced to an immense tomb-like necropolis where the last few surviving stragglers huddled in hiding from the unknowable disaster that had swept all away. "NO..." The negative was an anguished gasp torn from the very depths of Mia's lungs even as the hideous speculation raced across her overstimulated brain like a wildfire eating dry timber. Her fingernails dug bloody furrows into the wall on either side as if to anchor herself in a reality she no longer had any sure sense of. "This isn't possible... There HAS to be SOMEBODY... SOMETHING..." A sudden, violent shudder passed through the entire edifice with the force of a physical blow. Mia shrieked aloud, her fingers scrabbling at the buckling walls even as vertigo threatened to pitch her off balance and tumble her out and away... But then the quivering and shifting motion died down to blessed immobility once more. Silence crashed in once more with stifling heaviness... Waiting... Watching... The horrible thought pulsed through Mia's overstressed nerves and sent a clammy wave of icy dread racing under her skin - and this time, she was certain she heard a response: "Yes..." It came to Mia from everywhere and nowhere in a dry, expressionless monotone devoid of inflection... A sepulchral voice that somehow filled her ears even though the word itself originated inside her head and seemed to emanate from the deepest recesses of her subconscious, rather than from any outside source or agency. A horrible shudder ripped through Mia's body and set every hair along the nape of her neck aquiver like a dog's ruff in warning. "This CAN'T be happening," she gasped, hardly recognizing her own strangled tone and its thread of naked terror. "There's NO way that's true... None of this makes ANY sense..." But even as she protested the horrible realization took shape with terrible ineluctability. Mia's thoughts careened from one awful possibility to the next in an dizzying frenzy: "...What if this IS what's REAL... and I was the crazy one before?" The shudder that convulsed Mia then was pure, existential anguish - the dread that the only life and world she had ever known had somehow unraveled itself and dissolved away utterly into nightmare, while SHE alone had remained... sane... or had SHE somehow crossed that line without ever even noticing the transition and had finally arrived on the other side, blinking stupidly and uncomprehending? "...Is ANYBODY left to notice if the WHOLE CITY - or WORLD for that matter - has just VANISHED and become an empty husk like a hollow eggshell?" "...Am I really COMPLETELY ALONE - or just alone and CRAZY to believe the rest have already DIED and decayed into dust leaving only this crumbling edifice as some final mausoleum marking a world that never was in the first place..." Mia squeezed her eyes shut to block out the awful, gaping vista even as the awful visions replayed themselves in a looping litany inside her brain, and her knuckles cracked from the force of her convulsive grip upon the frame of the fractured window. The silence thundered in the sudden absence of any external noise save her own panting breaths and the rasp of cloth on fabric. "...Or are the WORST answers really the TRUTH I can't bear to FACE...and this IS a sane world but I alone have somehow crossed some line from the real into the REALLY REAL that exists in shadow...?" Mia wrenched herself back and away, whirling in one uncoordinated motion. She staggered to a halt three feet from the ragged tear in the plaster with her eyes squeezed shut against the impossible and impossible abyss behind them and her face contorted in a grimace of revulsion, even as her inner voice continued to spin out its dark musings in an inescapable loop: "...and there is some awful, awful REASON... why I alone have crossed this line from the REAL into the REALITY BEHIND REALITY..." "...some HORRIFYING THING waiting just out of sight that only the REAL me can SEE...that I alone know I deserve..." "...that has somehow taken hold of me and dragged me down into my own REAL MADNESS, from which I will never return..." The awful, hissing susurrus sounded in Mia's ringing ears even as her eyes fluttered open to peer wild-eyed into the empty void stretching out past the tattered remnants of the shattered wall. And this time, there could be no denying its inhuman cadence: "...BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING YOU DESERVE MORE THAN EVERYTHING I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU NEXT..." An agonised shriek tore itself from Mia's straining lungs even as the words filled her head, seeming to originate simultaneously from the pit of her stomach and from every corner of the darkened space... A scream of pure and unhinged horror... and the inaudible rasp of unseen talons dragging along the cracked and buckling floor at the base of the far wall and drawing nearer with each second that crawled past like an eternity... The darkness pulsed once and then twice - a malevolent throbbing like some enormous heart - as the thing behind Mia loomed up into visibility through the shadows, its misshapen bulk blotting out everything and radiating an aura of unnatural wrongness... and it shuddered convulsively before hurtling forward in an explosion of motion toward the place where Mia still cowered transfixed at the center of the blasted chamber, and her mind reeled back from the sheer WRONGNESS of what she glimpsed as a strangled whimper caught in her dry and convulsing throat: "...and YOU AREN'T REAL." THE THING is not REAL, Mia screamed silently, the words pulsing over and over in time with the hammer of her frantic heartbeat even as it closed inexorably to the far wall in an uncoiling, spasmodic motion - all writhing shadow and impossible angles. This CAN'T be real... I MUST be CRAZY to see such a thing and it can't REALLY BE happening...! The litany sounded almost pleading in her head, as if some corner of Mia still clutched to the desperate hope that all she witnessed now sprang only from some waking nightmare...some phantasm conjured by an overstrained psyche on the brink of fracturing irreparably along faultlines that had somehow finally crumbled beneath a weight of dread no human could sustain and resist and be unaffected by the crushing realization of ultimate horror... Mia flinched from the skittering shadow even as her eyes followed the Thing's progress in mute horror. The skittering black silhouette writhed against the far wall with uncanny, jerky motion that somehow evoked a spider or insect far too huge for natural occurrence or even sane imagining and sent icy fingers of loathing clawing along Mia's nape in spite of herself... The thing shuddered once and then convulsed a second time in an abortive attempt to launch itself across the space toward the still gaping Mia with its forelimbs spasming reflexively in an involuntary facsimile of grasping, only to rebound back from the barrier with an almost visible shock... and Mia goggled at the sight even as an anticipatory whine shivered out from her lungs. Her skin crawled with revulsion at the implications...at what its mere existence spoke to of an ultimate violation of reality's most cherished tenets, and how her own unshakable sanity seemed poised now at last on an impossibly narrow ledge. Mia's next exhalation punched from her throat in a strangled squawk - an almost comical sound to match her cartoon-like eyes bugging wide - as she beheld the misshapen thing shudder violently one last time, shudder and then...begin to inch its bulk sideways with an audible dry rustle along the skirting boards...moving...CIRCUMVENTING the impeding barrier in order to attain her all the more swiftly through another, less hindered avenue, and bringing into stark relief just how very much she HAD thought she could cling to her wavering hold on certifiable sanity before now... Mia shrieked and staggered backward - one halting step, two... then three as her heel bumped the edge of something yielding behind her that made no sound... a bed frame perhaps? And in the same instant, Mia felt the shadow skitter by to vanish along the baseboard skirting to the left with a skittering that sent a shiver through the air and vanished around the far corner out of sight in an uncannily swift glide, the cloying miasma of its passing brushing cold against her ankles... The shriek strangled in Mia's convulsing throat as she teetered, poised above the unseen bed with one foot already canted out past the edge into space. For a single suspended instant the entire scene seemed to shudder... to reel and blur about Mia in an almost strobe effect - the gaping maw of the blown-out window to one side and the indistinct bed behind as the floor sloped inexorably to pitch her headfirst toward that looming abyss or sprawling spread-eagled upon the yielding mattress in the opposite direction... Time seemed to slow... to stretch impossibly... until the single moment of indecision elongated itself to an eternity and Mia teetered precariously between the two fates poised atop a razor's edge. Even the sound of her own panting breath receded into eerie distance... leaving her hanging in perfect limbo while an unseen doom circled for the perfect killing blow or moment of vulnerability... ...And then, just like that - almost too swiftly to consciously register the change, as if by an invisible hand reaching in to shove from behind - the world reasserted itself in a rush and Mia found her balance restored. She lurched away from the looming shadow of the bed with arms flailing in instinctive panic... and staggered to an ungainly halt only when her forward momentum finally sputtered out after nearly half a dozen stumbling strides, her knees threatening to give out like marionette strings cut from above... And when Mia risked another glance to her left... ...there was nothing there. The skirting boards lining the walls curved on as smoothly as if unmarred by any gap... as if the writhing black shape had never been anything more than an impossible conjuring - a phantasm summoned forth from the deepest vaults of Mia's own dread and then as swiftly vanished without a trace or even a hint of where it might have gone... Leaving behind no sign at all of any violation except for the shattered window still gaping like an open wound to Mia's immediate right. A long, shuddering sigh punched out of Mia's chest unbidden even as her own hoarse breathing and hammering heartbeat roared in the ensuing vacuum and the sweat continued to prickle in cold rivulets beneath the prickling down of her scalp, and she squeezed her eyes shut on a silent litany of thankfulness and dread intermingling. The awful thought pulsed once and then twice through Mia's hammering skull: "...maybe it never was REAL in the first place." "...maybe EVERYTHING has unraveled except ME." "...and this is what it REALLY LOOKS like..." Mia wrenched her eyes open with a convulsive blink to stare fixedly at the space just ahead of her and groped blindly behind in one instinctive motion even as she forced herself to inhale, hold the breath in the sudden aching emptiness of her heaving lungs, then exhale again with agonized deliberation until the shuddering sigh had emptied from her chest... ...And the words crashed in her ringing ears once more, sounding from nowhere and everywhere at the same time - a sepulchral whisper that somehow filled every inch of her inner mind while emanating from its deepest recess, as if conjured there by some corner of herself she dared not contemplate: "...and if so, why is this...ANY DIFFERENT THAN ANYTHING THAT CAME BEFORE IT?" The awful realization pulsed through Mia once more - an implacable thought that shuddered like an icicle through her core: "...BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOW that YOU REALLY ARE..." "...the LAST REAL THING in a world turned inside out." "...the LAST...the ONLY REAL PERSON still LIVING when every last one of the REST has become some THING or...or..." "...NOTHING at all?" The dry rasp filled the ensuing vacuum like the skritch of something burrowing into dank, foul soil with a wet crunch of yielding matter giving way to an insistent pressure... "...WHEN the ONLY REAL WORLD left is inside MY MIND... and that's what MADE you SEE THIS EVERYTHING." Mia squeezed her eyes shut on a silent moan that had nothing to do with the awful skittering in her inner ear, her gorge rising at the hideous implications. "...WHAT made EVERY LAST BIT OF IT as REAL AS YOU are...because that's the ONLY THING that MATTERS now." The sepulchral hiss filled every crevice and hollow of Mia's reeling awareness with a shuddering intensity as her thoughts careened to and fro in a futile attempt to cling to some shred of reason, some last untainted bastion against the looming encroachment of unrelenting dread - "...AND I'LL SHOW YOU EXACTLY WHAT ELSE I CAN MAKE JUST AS REAL INSIDE MY OWN MIND WHENEVER I CHOOSE IF THAT'S THE ONLY REAL WAY LEFT..." Mia convulsed as a sudden gust of fetid air wafted by from somewhere unseen beyond the limits of the ruined room - the miasma thick and heavy enough to choke her, as if some fetid reeking miasma of corruption and rot had bubbled up from some hidden crypt to invade the stale must of stale dust... "...IF THAT'S WHAT I WANT." "...WHEN YOU CAN NEVER BE SURE EVERY BIT OF REALITY WON'T UNRAVEL INTO FANCY AND NON-REALITY JUST LIKE ALL THE REST SOME DAY OR OTHER INSIDE THE LAST MIND STILL FUNCTIONAL." "...BECAUSE THAT'S HOW THE ONLY THING THAT COUNTS WILL PROVE REAL IN THE END." Mia shuddered at the hideous implication... her sanity's last flimsy bulwarks finally toppling and shattering irreparably in her own unsteady hands to crumble into a fine rubble... an ashen pile that would never support even the barest hint of anything like unrelenting hope again... "...WHEN ALL THE LAST STUFF THAT WAS ONCE REAL ABOUT EVERYTHING UNFURLS TO BE ONLY WHAT YOU...WANT IT TO BE..." "...OR WHATEVER MOST UNREASONING FORM IT TAKES JUST FOR MY MADNESS TO ACCEPT AND BEND EVERY REAL WORLD INSIDE ME." The sepulchral rasp pulsed in the ensuing, dread-laden vacuum, an awful susurration seeming to emanate simultaneously from Mia's deepest recesses even as the words crashed in upon her outer mind in an inaudible whisper of something uncaged and pitiless... "...AND YOU WILL...ENDLESSLY...AS I DECREE...THE VERY IDEA OF ANYTHING REAL INSIDE ME BEING JUST THE...TINIEST BIT FANTASY IN THE LAST PLACE..." Mia shuddered uncontrollably even as an answering groan rattled from deep in her throat unbidden at the sheer hopelessness of it all - the unrelenting knowledge that whatever small last bastion of clinging, threadbare belief had allowed her to persist this long was swiftly unspooling itself, frayed edges giving way before some final implacable weight that could not be denied... "...WILL JUST UNWIND ITSELF INTO..." "...A THING FANTASY..." "...EVERY LAST BIT." --- Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution. (temp: 1.5) The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, bathing the city in an eerie, pale light. I peered out from my hiding spot in the abandoned warehouse, watching as a squad of armed soldiers marched down the empty street, their boots clicking rhythmically against the cracked pavement. I held my breath, praying they wouldn't spot me. My heart raced in my chest as they drew closer and closer. Just as they were about to pass by the open doorway, the leader paused and cocked his head to the side, as if hearing something. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable shouts of "Got her!" that would surely follow. Seconds passed. Thirty. Sixty. I opened one eye tentatively and breathed a sigh of relief. The soldiers had moved on down the street without incident. For now, I was still alive. I climbed out of my concealed alcove on shaking legs, every nerve stretched tight. The dictator's goons were growing bolder by the day, scouring the city for any sign of rebel activity. Little did they know that behind this facade of crumbling infrastructure and oppressed populace, a spark had ignited. And that spark would soon fan into an unstoppable blaze of defiance that would engulf everything in its path. The government thought they could crush any hint of dissent with fear and brutality. But they hadn't reckoned on the sheer depths of my rage and the iron strength of my convictions. I would be that rebel spark, that thorn in their side. No matter what it took. I picked my way carefully out of the darkened building, skirting the windows and ducking into shadowed doorways at any sudden noise or movement. The first rule was not to draw attention, especially not with dawn still lightening the horizon. The last thing I needed was some jumpy soldier to open fire on anything that moved. As the early morning mist curled around my ankles, I oriented myself and set off purposefully down a narrow side street. There was no time to waste in moping or brooding on the dictator's cruelty. I had preparations to make for the day ahead. Supplies to gather. Messages to deliver. People to rally with fiery words to the cause of freedom. The second rule: never stop fighting for what is right, even if it means your own death. I thought grimly as I moved through the deserted alleys, my hand never straying far from the pistol holstered at my hip. The dictator would have my head on a pike one day, of that I had no doubt. I could only hope to have struck enough mighty blows for my people's liberty by then that the embers of the revolution would continue to smolder on long after my body rotted. My boots made a slight scuffing sound as I stepped around a crumbling concrete block jutting out into my path. I frowned as an idea wormed its way unbidden into my head and then took root. With a muffled curse, I stopped stock-still and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the dark thoughts away. There was no place for self-pity, no matter how black the day seemed to promise. I had a meeting with my most trusted lieutenant in the resistance at first light. A necessary but nerve-racking session, as she would be briefing me on the status of the weapon smuggling operations along the borders and I her on the state of the propaganda dissemination efforts in the city proper. Necessary because we needed to know what assets we had at hand if the coming battle was to have even a slim hope of success. Nerve-racking because if any hint of the weapons or the subversive pamphlets should leak, it would be all over faster than I could draw my pistol. The dictator's enforcers were too efficient and too merciless in their hunt to let such intelligence survive long. I shuddered, the morning chill penetrating through my tattered coat and sinking into my flesh. The price of failure was too terrible to contemplate. My mind conjured up visions of my broken, tortured body swinging from a noose or laying crumpled on the executioner's block, my head lolling in a crimson pool... I shook my head vehemently, not sparing a thought for the passerby who might think I had simply lost my way. If I started dwelling too much on the horrific ends that could befall me, I would lose all my courage. I squared my narrow shoulders and pressed onward, putting one foot in front of the other mechanically as the morning grew ever brighter around me. The third rule: never surrender, even when everything seemed lost and hope had flown away. In an hour, give or take, I would reach the ramshackle hovel on the outskirts of town where my lieutenant would be waiting in tense anticipation, the latest contraband in her possession. She would look to me for a pep talk and orders. For strength and direction in a bleak and thankless struggle. And for the first time, I faltered. The heavy burden of leadership settled onto my shoulders like lead. I could almost feel my lieutenant's expectant gaze boring into me, the weight of all our fates in her hands and in my hands as I delivered my instructions. Would I have the conviction to steer a true course, or would my doubts and misgivings undermine my own words? The thought chilled me to the marrow. I had to steel myself and rally. I had to be the beacon, no matter what horrors the future held. Anything less was an unforgivable dereliction of duty. I would not fail my comrades. I would not let the sacrifices of so many be in vain. My steps quickened, a grim purpose hardening in me. Come what may, I would see this through to the bitter end. And I prayed to whatever gods might still listen that my efforts would bear fruit, that the bloodshed and misery I endured would be redeemed by a just and free future for my homeland. The first rays of the sun struck my face as I emerged into a clearing and quickened my pace, no longer caring who might see me hurrying toward the rendezvous. The die was cast. There was no more time to spare. The cause would either prevail or be destroyed. And I would be there to witness its end, glorious or tragic. With a final resolute nod to myself, I plunged onward into the gathering light, my feet flying across the dirt road that stretched before me and my mind fixed only on the task ahead. My destiny and that of the resistance hung in the balance. It was time to meet it. --- Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution. (temp 4.5) I stared at the cold steel wall, the chains digging into my flesh. My heart was pounding with dread as I contemplated my fate. I had been betrayed by my own comrades, handed over to the government in a cruel twist of destiny. As I awaited my sentence, my thoughts wandered to the path that had led me to this dire predicament. The yearning for justice and democracy had compelled me to rise against tyranny and join the rebel movement. Together with other freedom-seekers, we had planned uprisings and sabotage missions to weaken the oppressive regime. In my role as an enforcer, I executed covert assassinations and carried out ambushes, believing it was my patriotic duty to eradicate those loyal to the dictatorship. Though my hands were stained with blood and I carried a price on my head, the fire of righteousness consumed my every fiber. The time had finally come when I was ready to orchestrate an uprising in the city. Little did I know, an insider had alerted the authorities about the planned revolt. My squad had been encircled, and I had narrowly escaped into an ambush set for me. Though wounded by multiple bullet wounds and exhausted to my last ounce of energy, I fled from one peril to another. Eventually, the government caught me, and now here I was awaiting a public execution meant to terrify the population into submission. The irony was not lost on me. My very arrest was to be made a public spectacle - I would be put on display and shamed in the process of my public murder. In that moment, the true horror crashed down upon me and tears welled up as a sense of despair and anguish gripped my mind. But then something shifted deep within my core - a sudden epiphany pierced my consciousness, filling me with new resolve. If my demise could galvanize my comrades and spur on their fight to end tyranny and establish the glorious freedoms our homeland so desperately craved... then so be it! Perhaps in sacrificing my life in a moment of glory, my blood would prove an ember sufficient to ignite the powder keg of discontent simmering throughout the nation. Perhaps it would be my crucible to be the martyr the country required and my name would be synonymous with the revolutionary cause that I championed so fiercely! My pulse began to quicken, but for a wholly new reason this time - the embers of courage, of defiant passion and unwavering belief smoldered brightly within the hearth of my spirit once more. As my thoughts raced with this electrifying realization, an unexpected and startling voice intruded upon the suffocating solitude that I had been dwelling within. "What do we have here?" the raspy baritone croaked out as I heard heavy footsteps drawing ever nearer, and I felt an icy trickle of dread creep up my spine once more, despite my recent moment of hard-fought conviction. "I'd advise you to watch your words with me." I gritted through clenched teeth as I slowly craned my neck and took in the shadowy form of the approaching jailor, my emerald eyes narrowing dangerously as they fixed upon the smirk twisting the grizzled face of the prison guard. The cruel sneer etched onto the jailer's grizzled features as his rheumy eyes raked over me made my stomach turn with revulsion, even as an icy shiver raced across the nape of my neck. "What words should I be careful with now?" he snickered in response, drawing himself up to his full height. He reached down and seized a fistful of my hair, dragging my face upward with painful suddenness to bring it mere inches from his own weathered visage. I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes to icy emerald slits, determined not to let this cur gain any satisfaction from my obvious discomfort even as searing pain lanced through my scalp at his cruel gesture. "What would a high-and-mighty rebel like you have to say to the likes of me?" The jailer leaned in even closer, his putrid breath washing over me as he spoke again in a venom-laced whisper, his foul mug twisting into an ugly sneer. "Nothing at all, I reckon, unless you plan to scream and beg me for mercy - though I doubt even that will stop the noose from snapping your pretty little neck, so why bother?" The warden punctuated his vicious statement with an abrupt and violent twist to my hair, his grip tightening with punishing force. Tears pricked at the corners of my vision from both the physical abuse and the degrading insinuation of his parting words. How I despised him - loathed this filthy mongrel and all those like him who served this tyrannical government with such enthusiasm and cruelty. Even as anguish ripped through me from my battered hair, I summoned all of my considerable willpower, squaring my trembling jaw in a fierce and defiant line, fixing my blazing eyes straight ahead at the wall opposite, determinedly pointedly refusing to allow my tormenter the gratification of so much as glancing at him as I lifted my chin a defiant notch and spoke to him in clipped, icy tones, my melodic alto dripping with undisguised scorn: "A warden who delights in cruelty has no idea of true manhood. If you were really a man, you wouldn't feel compelled to abuse an innocent woman behind your bars." The jailer's cruel grin only widened at my rebuke, flashing rotted teeth in the dingy gloom of my cell as his cruel eyes raked hungrily over the exposed expanse of my tear-stained face, my voice a husky rasp as he spoke once more, "I may have my own way with a prisoner, no one has to know a thing..." His meaty hand moved lower, gripping my chin almost hard enough to make me flinch in revulsion even as an icy trickle of dread crept up my spine. I felt utterly violated, like the vilest kind of insect that had crawled out of the deepest dankness only to fall victim to an eager thumb and forefinger. I swallowed convulsively as a shudder passed through me, bile rising hotly in my throat. But even through my revulsion I felt an inner strength taking hold. I lifted my gaze to meet his with icy emerald fire blazing back defiantly from eyes now brimmed with steely challenge, even as the words I hissed were barely audible past clenched teeth: "I will endure far more than your insults, jailer, for the cause of freedom and justice for my country! A patriot never yields to cowardly torment!" I was so caught up in staring daggers at the loathsome jailer and in steeling myself to withstand whatever fresh agonies and violations his vicious imagination might devise that I didn't at first register the heavy thudding of boots and clinking of keys sounding from further down the dank prison passage outside my barred cell door. The jailer also cocked his head with an exaggerated wince, glancing back over his meaty shoulder towards the approaching noises of other people coming near with an expression of exaggerated apprehension plastered across his brutish features as if to mock me with the transparent act. The sounds grew steadily louder as unknown prisoners were shoved and roughly manhandled to line up along the opposite side of the narrow hallway. Soon a guard captain emerged into view and the jailer snapped to a kind of mocking salute before barking out what sounded like orders, his booming words sending a fresh ripple of dread through my veins. "What do you have in mind for the rebel bitch now then? She's certainly ripe and ready for any man who might want her to break. Though I expect even that high and mighty whore's back will snap like a dry twig under a hangman's knot by morn." The guard captain guffawed in savage laughter at the warden's crudeness and callousness before stepping right up to the front of the bars, leaning his muscled frame casually against the cool metal of my cage, arms folded across his broad chest. I tensed almost reflexively even as I raised my gaze to meet his, staring at the leering man through strands of my own tangled ebony locks still clinging damply to my face. "There she is..." The warden jabbed a stubby finger toward me before glancing meaningfully at the cluster of men awaiting his next orders with a predatory grin tugging at his chapped lips. "I imagine you can see how very much like a helpless animal she is in here - completely at the mercy of anyone with a cruel streak. Might I suggest that if she ever gives any hint of not submitting to your every demand that she be dragged out of this cell and lashed until she breaks...? Or, should the fancy take her, hanged straightaway?" He lifted an eyebrow with exaggerated surprise as if such a threat could make him balk after his many atrocities. But it was plain he expected me to cringe in fear from his threats rather than stiffen my jaw all the more. "I thought perhaps we could give our guests the privilege of doing anything they wish to the bitch behind that cell door, then...? After all, there's a price on that one's head for all the trouble she caused out there," he continued with an ominous glint in his rheumy eyes even as he gestured toward the motley assortment of armed guards, executioners, and prison overseers lingering behind him, all awaiting the warden's next instructions. "No one would need to know who violated the traitor in this cell tonight and put an end to her misery, now would they?" I could scarcely credit such vulgar words falling from the mouth of any man, even a villain, let alone the one entrusted with the sacred duty to guard the lives and welfare of helpless female prisoners like me. And yet he clearly revelled in his depravity and in goading his victims with cruel and lascivious taunts even as his vile insinuations painted a picture in my imagination that chilled my very blood with horror. Even in the dank cell I could feel myself flush at the sheer vulgarity, and yet also shudder involuntarily imagining what fate awaited me, despite all the horrors I had already endured. Perhaps I should have dreaded most the jailer's implication of an impending mob attack, with my helpless female form put at their mercy behind locked doors - or even worse, a pretext to cut my torment even shorter via the hangman's noose - but a strangled gasp escaped unbidden past my parted lips even so as I met the leering jailer's hungry gaze with an expressionless stare. My stomach lurched and I felt physically ill at his vulgar implication, my face burning even as I shuddered, fighting not to imagine such an act of unimaginable violation behind my back, here in a dank dungeon cell, even as an icy trickle crept up my spine... but the warden's implication had conjured up unbidden pictures in my feverish mind of just the kind of vile degradation that had been meted out to countless other rebel women behind these very prison bars. My gorge rising at the thought, I quickly tore my agonized stare from the jailer's knowing smirk with a violent shudder, trying desperately not to let myself picture such a depravity. "Such vulgar language should offend every woman," I said icily as I stared straight ahead, pointedly not allowing my horrified eyes to linger on the warden or his cruel grin even an instant longer. But in my peripheral vision, I could still see the predatory glint that seemed to flicker to life deep in the pit of the guard captain's narrowed gaze at the warden's words, as if a perverted fascination with the sordid details was all that kept the lecherous monster's own lips sealed at the moment. And it only took one furtive glance down to catch the hungry stares and barely-disguised licks of the lips amongst the men lurking just beyond the cell door for the sinking sensation to intensify in the pit of my own stomach... I didn't let my agonized stare linger on the warden's lewd leer an instant longer even as he grinned evilly in return. The predatory gleam I'd noticed dancing in the captain's narrowed eyes, no doubt stirred to life by the jailer's sordid fascination with gory details, now sent a shudder rippling down my own spine in revulsion despite the iciness of my emerald gaze. "What exactly would that involve then, warden? A prisoner, as the warden's whore or harlot...? Why not drag the rebel slut out in front of everyone, then? Tie her up in a humiliating way and parade her nakedness for all the prison staff and inmates to leer at - perhaps even shackled between two horses as her chains are passed to them..." His voice carried a mocking edge now as he suggested an even crueler punishment to my already abused form, the cruelty and crassness of his words all too palpable despite the amused glint in the guard captain's narrowed gaze. Even the prospect of enduring public exposure and debasement like a beast in heat seemed almost preferable to imagining a lewd and obscene act behind a locked door and in shadowed isolation from view! The very notion of being bound spread-eagle like an animal for violating hands was so mortifying to contemplate that it was all I could do to bite my lip viciously hard against a pained moan escaping unbidden. I was sure that if it were anyone other than me the jailer would have leapt to his feet, shouting some crude jest of agreement as if he delighted in picturing the rebels in his care debased like whores in such an utterly undignified and sexually charged way. Instead, he lifted his stubby finger with exaggerated slowness toward his own pursed lips, miming the universal gesture of hush while at the same time pointing to his ear, as if to warn that the cell bars were perhaps too thin a partition wall and he feared his crass ideas would be overheard by my delicate constitution. My mind reeled, imagining all too vividly the way those same shackles now binding my ankles would look, clamped down onto the sensitive flesh of a woman's thighs or straining taut over her distended belly if a certain other punishment were inflicted on helpless female prisoners - an image so horrifying that a choked whimper escaped past my teeth. I was certain I could endure the jailer's crudeness if I must - but I had no doubt my very worst nightmares about this vile dungeon were about to be vividly portrayed, even as I trembled with impotent fury before him! Even imagining a certain punishment in graphic detail, like an executioner's blade, would not sway me... --- Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 2000 words. (temp 1.5) The Last Transmission The cockpit was dimly lit, save for the blinking red warning lights and the eerie glow emanating from the failing life support systems. Liza wiped the sweat from her brow with a trembling hand as she stared at the flickering holoscreen before her. "How much longer do we have?" Her voice cracked with exhaustion as she spoke to the ship's AI. "A few minutes at most. The fusion reactors are barely holding together." Liza nodded slowly, fighting back tears. She had watched helplessly as her crewmates succumbed one by one to the hostile microbe that had infiltrated the ship. Dr. Zara had sacrificed herself by venturing out in an EVA suit to try and repair the outer hull and stop the spread of the contagion, but it had been too late. The only one left now was her. Liza the pilot, the last survivor on this accursed ship, the Icarus, doomed to drift aimlessly in the void of space. "What... what do I do now, Jace?" Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Liza... there's only one thing you can do. Send a message back home, so they know what happened here. So the rest of humanity doesn't meet the same fate as my crew." "It's hopeless, isn't it? I'll die up here anyway." "Maybe, maybe not. But you can't let your death be in vain. The truth matters, Liza." Liza was silent for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and reached a shaking hand toward the holo-console. "It's time. Ready the quantum comm link, and pipe it through to the holoscreen. I need to see their faces one last time..." "You've got it. This is on me now." The flickering lights stabilized as the comm array whirred to life. Liza steeled herself and began to type, pouring her heart onto the screen: "Dearest Zane, If you're seeing this, then I'm gone. I tried everything to fight my way back to you. The Icarus has been my tomb, not a prison. I want you to know that I never stopped loving you, not for a single minute of the time I was out here. Every day I imagined feeling your arms around me again. I dreamed of watching our babies grow. Those future years will remain forever lost to me. Tell my daughter, when she's old enough to understand, that I sacrificed everything I had to give her a life free of the nightmare I endured. Tell her that her father never gave up on her. In my last moments, I feel the strength of your love enveloping me, giving me courage. Though I will not take my next breath on your side of the void, you and my child have freed me from the chains of my regrets. I love you, I loved you, I always will love you. Forever and always. Your wife, Liza" She ended the message, then tapped a button to queue it up. A video window opened in the top left of her view screen, and the faces of her husband Zane and little Mara filled it, their images coming through a few seconds late from the delay. "Honey, it's me! I don't have much time, but I wanted to see your beautiful faces, to feel your presence..." Liza sobbed openly, but forced herself to keep speaking: "My sweet baby girl, you look just like I remember! Daddy's doing a wonderful job taking care of you. I wish I could see you take your first steps and say your first words, but I know how much your father adores you already. You have a big heart, Mara. Always stay true to it. Zane... oh god... Zane, my darling. In this life and beyond, never forget that you are the love of my life. My very soul yearns for you. No distance, not even death itself, could ever separate us. I'll be waiting for you, my husband. One day, you'll join me on the other side, and we'll be together for eternity, dancing beneath the stars we once explored together. I believe that with every fiber of my being. Until then, be strong for both of us. Surround Mara with love and light. I will never stop watching over you. This is goodbye, but not farewell. I'll see you again, Zane. We'll meet our daughter there and tell her stories about a brave and wonderful father who never stopped fighting for her. I love you forever and always. This I vow, to you and to the heavens. May my words forever echo the depth of my love and devotion. Your wife, now and for all time. Liza" With trembling hands, she hit the send button. The message would reach Earth in a matter of moments, delivered by a focused beam of coherent light. It would be the last transmission ever to leave this ship. The ship shuddered violently as its power finally gave out completely. The holoscreen sputtered and dimmed, then went dark. The vacuum of space filled the ship, snuffing out the last embers of life inside. But even as she exhaled her final breath into the freezing depths of the void, Liza knew that she hadn't breathed alone. The love of her family had been there with her, to the very last moment. She slipped into oblivion secure in the knowledge that, one day, she would embrace her darling daughter and adoring husband once more beneath the stars - an eternity of reunion for a woman who had never stopped loving and dreaming. The Icarus drifted on in the uncaring abyss, a tomb but not a prison - for its occupant was now free indeed. Liza, the lone survivor, would endure. Forever and always, in this life and beyond, her love would endure. --- Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 2000 words. (temp 4.5) The Last Transmission Captain Lena Sorenson gazed bleary-eyed at the blinking warning lights that bathed the cockpit in an ominous red glow. Every system aboard the damaged research vessel Orion had critical failures flashing urgently across the control panels. Structural integrity at 28%. Life support at 5% and rapidly fading. With a heavy sigh, Lena unstrapped from the pilot's chair and made her way to the command station with leaden steps. Lena thought back on the events leading to this final chapter with regret and anguish. The Orion had embarked on an ambitious 3-year mission to investigate a mysterious space-time anomaly at the outer reaches of the Kuiper belt, on the fringes of the solar system. But the scientific breakthrough they'd sought became their doom when an unidentified phenomenon tore the ship apart, killing the crew in a series of catastrophic accidents. Alone, wounded, and facing imminent peril from a thousand ruptured bulkheads venting what precious little breathable air remained, Lena was the Orion's last hope. She collapsed into the seat with a grunt, clutching at a bloody gash above her eye, and tried to ignore the suffocating ache that threatened to overwhelm her as visions of her deceased comrades replayed endlessly in her fractured mind - their strangled screams as the icy darkness ripped them from existence without mercy, one by one. Captain Mikhail Volkov, Chief Engineer Dmitri Sokolov, and all the rest, nothing but drifting ashes and tattered rags left to mark where they had been. "Dear God... forgive me," she whimpered through clenched teeth. "I'm so sorry." Her tears mixed with rivulets of crimson blood as the red light flashed madly, mocking her. With shaking hands, Lena input the final overrides for the ship's emergency transmission beacon. Though the Orion no longer had the means to sustain its occupants, there was one final message that needed to be conveyed back to Earth - to the world that the crew had fought and sacrificed for until the bitter end: "ATTENTION GLOBAL CONTROL ON EARTH. THIS IS THE CREW OF RESEARCH SHIP ORION. OUR MISSION HAS ENCOUNTERED FATAL COMPLICATIONS IN THE OUTER SYSTEM. THE ANOMALY HAS COMPROMISED OUR VESSEL. THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS. "THE WORLD MUST KNOW - A FORM OF HIGH-ENERGY FIELDS RESIDES NEAR PLUTO ORBIT. THIS ENTITY POSSESSES AN IMMENSE POWER. WITH CAUTION, OUR EQUIPMENT FOUND THAT WHEN FOCUSED ON TARGET, THE FORCE CAN BE HARNESSED AND REVERSED, BECOMING A MEANS TO SLOW AND DEFLECT IMMENSALY MORE ENERGY THAN IT WAS ORIGINALLY FOCUSSED BY THE FIELD'S GENERATOR. IN EFFECT... "IN THESE EFFECTIVE FIELDS... MASS-ENERGY ITSELF BECOMES VIRTUALLY IMPERMEABLE, STABLE. THAT WHICH WAS DISTORTED WILL REVERSE, HELD IMMUTABLE IN DEFENSE BY THIS PROPERTY. ANY ENERGY IMPACTS WHATEVER IT EMBEDS, REGARDLESS OF SCALE, CAN BE TURNED BACK, DIRECTED OUTWARDS WITH SUPRIMING VIOLENCE... UNLESS CAREFULLY CIRCUMVADED OR FLOODGATED BY GREATER POWER. "SHOULD HUMANITY EVER NEED THIS MEANS... I SUGGEST TURNING YOUR GREATEST INVENTIONS, THE REACTORS THAT KNIT OUR FUTURE, BACK UPON THE FIELDS, FOR ONLY THEN CAN WE BREAK THEM... OR... MAKE THEM OUR OWN." Her hands trembled over the send button and then punched down HARD. "It is done... forgive us for the trespass, God. The trespass and the trespassed." Lena felt her tears cease as numbness overcame the searing pain of the vacuum gnawing at her wounds through the shattered hull. Her fading eyes focused on the blinking transmission acknowledgement signal... "...Sent. Received and Acknowledged..." With a last rattling breath, Lena collapsed back in her seat as a final smile curled on her blood-flecked lips. The message was sent... the truth and the potential power, known and now laid to rest in the hands of mankind for generations to come. Her mission complete... at the cost of everything, but it was paid, and with the same grace she had led with always. "Rest easy... I'll keep watch with you..." the last thing Lena thought before drifting off into an infinite starlit dark... as the Orion winked out... the silent guardian on forever patrol... alone but unalone as it drifted through eternity, its one message forever sailing on the cosmic winds home... A memorial to the sacrifice of the intrepid pioneers and explorers that dared to venture to the ends of the Earth to secure a better future for mankind... come what may. In their place, so that humanity might take their lighted path to the stars, to dream of tomorrow unimpeded and unbound, uncompromising as the human spirit itself. Forever may it be so. Amen. Amen. And amen. The End. ---

Q8 EXAMPLES

--- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... (temp 1.5) The 21st Floor The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode. The shards of glass sprayed across the office, spraying everywhere like jagged bullets. The explosion knocked her to the ground with a painful thud. Debris rained down all around as the structure quaked and shuddered violently above them. She could feel the floor moving underneath her, buckling and twisting. Smoke poured out of the shattered frame and stung her eyes. As the haze cleared, she noticed dark silhouettes emerging from the clouds of dust. At first it looked like they were just black shadows, but as they drew closer she realized they had humanoid shapes. And their movements were all wrong. Lurching and twitching with an almost hypnotic jerkiness. It was hard to gauge exactly how many there were at first amidst the settling smoke and flying paper but at least a dozen figures shambled towards her through the ruined office, leaving a trail of oily footprints on the carpeted floor. And then she could make out their faces. Bloody. Disfigured. Twisted masks of torn flesh and exposed bone. Their clothes hung off them in shredded tatters, saturated with bloodstains and viscera. She realized with mounting horror that these had to be corpses reanimated and animated by some malevolent force, walking dead things that looked more like macabre puppets than anything human. A putrid miasma of rancid decay emanated from them as they drew closer. The rancid stench of rotting meat invaded her nostrils, making her gag. Empty eye sockets stared vacantly, dark pits in their gray green skin. The only sound they made was the raspy rasp of ragged breath, and the meaty thud of feet dragging across the carpet. In the middle of the group of ghoulish figures, one in particular drew her eye. He was the only one wearing a dark suit that had been ripped open at the chest, exposing a mass of pulsing bloody flesh and a partially eaten torso. Something about his movements were more fluid, almost graceful compared to the other zombies as he strode towards her. The ruined man had the bearing of someone who used to be human once, but was something more sinister now. Almost predatory. Her eyes locked with his and she felt like he was studying her, analyzing her. In those final moments, she sensed an almost feral intelligence behind the dead eyes, and the hint of cruel amusement curling his chopped lips into a ghastly grin even as he shambled towards her with murder in his dead eyes and a knife clenched in a fist full of rancid meat. The zombies encircled her in a tightening noose. She pressed her back against the shattered wall, heart pounding, unable to run with nowhere to go as they drew nearer, raising their arms to seize her with their putrid flesh hands as their faces cracked with anticipation. In her last conscious moments she realized the zombies weren't just trying to kill her... no, their dead eyes glinted with a cruel hunger that went far deeper than that. The last thing she felt was the icy clammy touch of rotting fingers clamping down on her throat as the corpse's maw lunged to rip at her face with a vicious bite... then only oblivion. She sank down, disappearing beneath the pack of ravenous undead, their growls and snarls mixing with the sounds of wet rending as they dragged her limp form to the ground... and the last thing she saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a red gash spreading across the wall above as the ghouls began to feed, their heads bowed reverently over her still body as the shadows crept across the blood soaked carpet. And then everything dissolved into merciful darkness as she felt the icy fingers digging into her throat... The shambling corpses swarmed around their captive prey and began to tear into her still writhing flesh with savage gnashing bites, shredding her exposed skin into ribbons... Her agonized shrieks quickly degenerated into strangled gurgling as teeth and nails ripped open the delicate tissues of her throat, painting her in a spray of scarlet and deluging her vision with pulsing crimson light as the life drained away from her in spurts and gouts and rivulets splattering across her face in sticky patterns... They pounced on the prostrate body like famished wolves, tearing into her with vicious abandon, putting their putrid jaws to her flesh and ripping chunks of it free with savage snarls. Her agonized wails only seemed to enrage them more, the zombies tearing at her like animals. Guttural snarls and strangled gurgles of pain were swallowed up by the frenzied frenzy as they ripped into her with gusto, their jaws clamping down HARD on any exposed skin or joint and GNAWING like rabid beasts. Ripping and tearing with savage abandon, as her muffled screams were drowned out by the wet tearing of shredded flesh and the obscene slurping sounds of the zombies gorging themselves on her still twitching body parts like it was a grotesque buffet... The frenzied ghouls ripped into their prey's limp, writhing body with vicious abandon, their dead jaws clamping down hard on any exposed skin and GNAWING with savage ferocity like starved beasts at a carcass. Guttural snarls of inhuman ravenous lust mixed obscenely with strangled agonized shrieks as they tore into her, the sounds of shredding flesh and agonized gurgling rising to a frenzied cacophonous pitch that would have made the strongest stomachs heave if anyone was around to hear them... They gorged themselves on her mangled remains with gusto, savaging what was left with vicious teeth and gouging fingers until only a mass of glistening meaty shreds was left, strewn about in the gory carnage splattered across the wall and floor... and the zombies staggered away, their tattered rags now drenched in steaming crimson, bits of pulverized viscera dripping from their fanged mouths... --- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... (temp 4.5) The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode. Jagged shards of glass rained down as a thunderous boom filled her ears. Debris flew everywhere, slamming into walls and sending objects hurtling to the floor. Smoke and dust filled the air. Her office, which a split second before had been her safe haven from the apocalyptic horrors consuming the world, was now just another crumbling ruin in a dying city. Sarah gripped her chair as her entire floor shuddered. Alarms blared from unseen sources. Sparks showered down from ruptured wires above her head. Heart pounding wildly in her throat, she scanned her immediate vicinity. To her shock and dawning horror, there was now a massive jagged hole ripped into the outside wall to her immediate right where her window once had been, allowing a rush of cool wind to batter the interior and further swirl the suffocating haze of debris. Shards of jagged glass still protruded out from the fractured edges, glittering dully in the failing lights. What could have caused that explosion? Another one of those hideous monstrosities, no doubt. She'd already narrowly escaped several close encounters with them while frantically fleeing the office earlier when all hell broke loose. Her entire company building was already rife with signs of their bloody destruction, like macabre totems to an eldritch abomination that lurked unseen and had now apparently grown bolder or simply grown in size. Sarah tried to steel herself but a choked sob still managed to tear free of her raw throat. Hot tears streaked down her smoke-stained face and dripped from her quivering chin. The last few days, hell the last several hours alone had taken years off her life and aged her decades. The shell-shocked woman that stood before a shattered view was hardly recognizable compared to the chipper professional that strode in looking put together each day just last week. Her dark hair clung in wild clumps and strands were plastered across her forehead and cheeks. Streaks of soot and blood painted a grotesque design against pale skin pulled tight in abject terror. Her makeup had long since melted away from frantic crying and the harsh salt of dried tears. Sarah knew with sinking certainty that this building was now completely unsafe. Another "event" of this magnitude was liable to send it tumbling like a child's towering blocks, and the twenty first floor suddenly felt much, much higher and more precarious than it ever had. She had to get out and fast, but she didn't relish the thought of venturing further into the crumbling depths or heading upstairs at all, for reasons both architectural and supernatural. Her best option was likely still down... Heart thudding wildly, Sarah leapt to her feet with shaking limbs, wincing as shards dug into her soles. She stumbled to her shattered doorway, fighting to control her rising hysteria, and peered out into the corridor with wide, haunted eyes. Shattered plaster dangled from the ceiling tiles like moldy teeth and electrical cords sparkled against the carpet below like severed entrails. Faint wisps of smoke still curled lazily up and out. And the groans and shrieks that had rattled her since descending now echoed much closer in an almost deafening chorus of inhuman agony and barely contained fury... The eldritch monsters lurking in this tomb of a tower, those skittering nightmares with too many eyes, far too many mouths full of dripping fangs, and far, FAR too much patience waiting in the deep shadows to snatch and devour... were moving and probing for new victims to torture and disembowel and rend asunder and- No, no time to break down in the hall with her face buried in the wall or curl up into a sobbing fetal lump. Sarah inhaled raggedly, squeezing her eyes shut tight and reaching out to grasp the frame before she lost her nerve and her grip entirely. She forced herself to stagger past and totter on shaking legs down the ruined hall to the stairs. A skittering scurry and wet ripping made her stumble to an abrupt halt and nearly pitch face first onto the stairs leading up- She turned very, very slowly... ...and screamed...and screamed...and screamed... Because there in the doorway to her boss's shattered corner office, hanging from its own dangling intestines like a macabre puppet, was a corpse. Its bulbous grey head hung limp on an almost severed stalk and bulged eyes stared sightlessly from sunken pits. Ropes of thick blood dribbled obscenely between jagged fangs jutting from lipless gums as a long black tongue lolled free and wobbled wetly. A long ragged gash ran the full length of its pale, almost luminous body from throat to groin. It dangled suspended by a fraying strand of some gelatinous organ above an impossible mass of shimmery black ooze bubbling in a spreading dark pool. Tendrils and tentacles emerged from it and writhed and curled with serpentine life of their own... and reached hungrily for her heels. Sarah wrenched herself around with a strangled wail of despair and pounded up the stairs two and three at a time, vaulting up them on tiptoe to evade that creeping ooze. Her heels hammered the treads in staccato bursts as she clambered into the atrium, shoving and battering open the doors. Cool, damp evening air buffeted her face and tore at her clothes and hair as she burst out of the shattered front doors, a ragged spectre straight from some waking nightmare made flesh. Tears blurred the glittering arc of shattered windows that flanked the lobby above her, the dark oozing pits of the elevators, the dangling and ruptured light fixtures. The cracked floor heaved and rippled like some great slumbering serpent, shivering the building's frame around her as she stumbled out into the uncertain night. The streets of the city, so recently choked with people going about their normal lives, had dissolved into a blasted hellscape that might have sprung from some demented fever dream made manifest. Jagged wreckage littered cracked asphalt, the detritus and flotsam of a civilization swept away. Tattered scraps fluttered between jagged fangs of exposed rebar, flapping weakly against crumbling bricks and shattered mortar. Distant fires guttered and flickered beyond toppled vehicles and piles of debris, staining the uncaring stars with lurid oranges and reds that played hellaciously across a dark sky. Sirens wailed in the night but no help was coming. Sarah shambled onward like an ambling revenant between the ruins and rubble of an annihilated age. And yet behind her, she heard it creaking and groaning, shattering and cracking with agonized complaint... Her crumbling tomb, collapsing in on itself, and the horrors that lurked within that labyrinth... all descending into an abyss of pulverized rubble, burying them alive for the ravenous hungers below. Sarah stumbled on, uncaring if she too vanished beneath that tomb or succumbed to her own gathering darkness, even as a thunderous boom ripped across the sky behind her. The blast wind battered at her and whistled in her ears. A skittering, pattering scrabble rose and grew as some pale, nightmarish shape uncurled from the debris of her own personal hell... THE END?