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[ { "from": "human", "value": "You exist in a world where no one has dreams. You begin to dream, what do these strange night visions mean, how do you explain them to others?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I rhythmically stir my coffee, watching the small island of bubbles coalesce and disintegrate as their surface tension breaks. Without the sound of creaking linoleum I would have stirred the coffee until it was cold, the electric heat bleeding away through chipped ceramic. \n\n\"Steven...\"my wife began, her left foot nervously resting on the stair as if the kitchen's threshold was a tangible barrier and not a thin strip of aluminum. \n\nSteven. This was, at least, a start. A concrete reminder of an abstraction or, at best, an anchor. I could see the water pouring in through the widening gap of the Lock as it flooded the lower chamber. The boat descending the broken sluice of black liquid, pouring and smashing into the smooth concrete floor of the passageway. Lights blared from either side while highlighting nothing and the ever present orders, shouted in Spanish.\n\nThe coffee was light brown with soy milk and added nothing to the calculation I made each waking moment. Subtract identity, add sensation, multiply cliches and divide your attention between consciousnesses.\n\nI walked to the bottom of the stairs and kissed my wife while walking out the door and away from her silent protestations. The highway was smooth, the lights blared from either side while highlighting nothing. Work. Parking lot slick with algae as the ropes tugging from unseen hands dragged the vessels through the narrow canal, my car parked between yellow lines. The door pops open, metal hinges resisting my push in the summer humidity as the briny water slides from beneath the Bow, cascading over me and my briefcase. Susan greets me, I ignore Susan.\n\nMy desk is solid, the wood weathered and polished by long hours and work ethic. I hold the edges like I'm being dragged away and attempt to identify the nature of my surroundings. \n\nThere simply is no line, no experience measurable or sensation quantifiable. There is no power in reality for me now, and as the window breaks and the cold air greets my clammy skin I realize now with uncharacteristic lucidity where I am. The Ship's brass railings glint in the harsh illumination of the waterway briefly before the wooden keel splinters itself on the hard floor. Water washes away the wreckage as it forms, leaving a cracked door and an empty basin while lights blare from either side, highlighting nothing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The king has been murdered. His most trusted knight stands accused. Now on trial, he must convince the Royal Court that the Queen killed the King. Write his desperate case and his inevitable failure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is most unwelcome, and most discouraging, for as a man who holds the highest esteem for the rightful King and his cherished Queen I must now speak plainly. \n\nTo the court, I must address certain suspicions and heresy levelled against my person, specifically those pertaining to our Queen and Regent. My role has long been one of trusted friend and adviser, a simple scribe when measured against the keep of knowledge that was once our lord and King, but an adviser nonetheless. The trust implicitly granted by our King was an honour that my death will not terminate, nor my supposed guilt erase. I served with dignity and care, and will do so in this life or what awaits. \n\nTo those here today I declare this, knowing the consequences of doing so: your Queen is a liar. \n\nYou have said I am a scoundrel, and a murderer, and I am not. You, a woman of birth and breeding lower your station with these levied charges, and lower us both by convening this hearing. I see in your gaze that you know what I allude to, and I see in your gaze you wish me to quiet my tongue. \n\nYour child is my own, your womb carries no righteous spawn of god-willed nobility, but a child of passion and joy, a child conceived from secrecy and duplicity. The posture you exhibit leads me to believe you deny these charges, to which I must rebut: I am more familiar with your cleaning staff than you. I know that which you suffer on the moon's infernal schedule has ceased, I tell all here today that you are with child and that child is mine. \n\nThere is more to this story than the bringing of life, for you see, my Queen, I am also familiar with your doctors. I know well your condition, the condition that will cause your life to bleed from your body the moment the child is born. I know the child you carry is to be the mechanism of your untimely death, and more-so, I know my own character.\n\nMy flawed character that led me to insinuate my use of a lamb-skin sheath when none was possessed by me is not equivalent to the malice it takes to kill a king. \n\nYou have slain your innocent husband as retribution for your death to come. You have placed the blame on my doorstep.\n\nI beseech you, take the remainder of your life into your own hands and spare me mine. I am no murderer, and you have murdered the wrong man. You have no heir, the king has no heir, the line is dead. Do what you must." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "I definitely need practice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hi there,\n\nI'm deleting this post because your account has been basically inactive for seven months, and since then you haven't responded to any posted writing prompts. Please see the sidebar notes under the tag - although you have technically posted in /r/writingprompts before, the spirit of the rule is that you make an effort to respond to other people prompts, and THEN ask for some specific prompts if you need them. \n\nEspecially for this post, which just asks for a type of character - you could fit a socially depraved character into most of the current posts! \n\nThanks heaps." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "As the alien fleet moves into orbit, King Arthur returns." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The legends never mentioned how I repelled the last alien invasion? How Merlin made me slumber until they returned and gave me potions to speak the modern common tongue?\"\n\n\"You're asking the wrong person. I know there's a lake and a sword and a table and Lancelot and maybe Robin Hood? Or a Yankee? Dragons maybe? Spam? No?\"\n\n\"Cretin.\"\n\n\"Should've came back at a renfair if you wanted accolades. Maybe we can go find some professors later if we survive this invasion.\"\n\n\"I stopped the invasion once before and I shall again.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Soon the knights of Camelot will join others from around the world. And we will be launching the most chivalrous battle in this history of mankind. Mankind -- that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today, we celebrate our Saint Valentine's Day!\"\n\nThe cretin waited, shuffled feet, looked off into the distance. \"So will the knights be here in the next few minutes or do we have time to grab lunch?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, that was the speech I gave then. Knights have been dead centuries and it seems tell of their deeds do not fare much better lately.\"\n\n\"So what did you after that speech?\"\n\n\"Became blindingly intoxicated, as was the Saint Valentine's Day tradition at the time.\"\n\n\"How did you stop the aliens?\"\n\n\"Oh, ah, a different fleet of another alien breed came and did most of the heavy lifting. We partied like bros and watched and had our scribes write it all down like we did it.\"\n\n\"Can you summon the other fleet?\"\n\n\"I kinda assumed they'd be here. I just wanted to watch the promised second battle. I let another knight take over my title and slept.\"\n\nThe cretin stared at Arthur. An awkward pause hung heavy in the àir. Arthur crumpled as he unzipped his man suit and fourty four escaping squirrels darted into the forest.\n\nThe cretin tried to unzip his suit but the zipper became stuck. His body dragged on the ground as it disappeared into the foliage." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "120 years from now, you are in the room of scientists as they discover that solar energy is not a renewable resource and that it is draining the sun." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ghost of Arthur Eddington dived through the wall, startling the lunchtime crowd of theoretical physicists. The room became eerily absent of chatter as they considered the apparation.\n\n\n\n \"Do you know the Sun is powered by nuclear fusion and will last 10 billion years?\"Eddington asked finally.\n\n\n\"Uh, yes,\"said one physicist. \n\n\n\"Good!\"said Eddington.\n\n\n\n\"... and don't you listen to that busy-body Kelvin,\"said Eddington floating around the tea service. \"Bloody fool, trying to steal my discovery. From beyond the grave tooooo.\"\n\n\n\n\"Okay,\"said the physicist. He grabbed at an unattended biscuit.\n\n\n\"Good, then I'll be off then,\"said Eddington dissipating into thin air." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Our greatest accomplishments cannot be behind us, because our destiny lies above us.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She loved flowers. Jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, wisteria... gardenias.\n\n\nI clumsily lay the flower vase down next to the twins crib, brush away tears.\n\n\nA drunk driver can take a life, but it can't take the living that life did. They'll know their mother loved gardenias, even if it makes me cry.\n\n\n\n\"I love you,\"I whisper to the silence, \"life, with you, was wonderful. But... but we're not done fighting yet. We're going to raise two wonderful sons.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have to tell someone something very important by the end of the day, but this person does not own a phone. How do you get in contact with them?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm innocent! Don't do it!\"I cried on my cell floor. The day had finally come. In just a few moments I was to be taken out and hung for my crimes.\n\n\"Please. I beg of you. Let me try and get hold of Susan again.\"My pleads to the warden were falling on unsympathetic ears.\n\n\"Danny, I've told you this a million times. We have no contact number for this 'Susan'. Therefore we can only assume she isn't real. Therefore, it's the noose for you.\"\n\nTwo guards stroll in from behind the warden and grab me by the arms. They dragged me to the yard where I looked at the pale blue sky.\n\n\"That's it! I have an idea! Warden - I know how to communicate by smoke signal! Give me a fire and 10 minutes. Susan will appear, I promise. If not, kill me then!\"\n\nThe guards look to the warden, who sighs and gives them a nod. I scurry over to the middle of the yard where a small fire had already been lit for me. I remove my shirt and start writing out my smokey Message.\n\nSUSAN. NEED HELP. FRAMED FOR CRIME. COME TO PRISON ASAP.\n\nWe waited. For 10 long minutes we waited. I looked at the sky with the noose around my neck.\n\n\"Wait, does This Susan even know how to read smoke signals?\"\n\n\". . . Shiiit.\"\n\nThey pull the lever and my body goes limp." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The year is 2463 and and cryogenic technology is at its peak. Millions of people have entered the primary freezing state in hope to be reawakened in the year 3000. However, after a huge economic crisis many of the firms face the ethical decision on whether to shut off the power or keep it on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A shadow of a man walks into the dark room, his arm stretches out and hands me a brown envelop with a small piece of paper with 'Project 3ZS' written in a red bold letters. I reach out and take the document already knowing what monstrous choices await my signature.\n\nThe shadow leaves and for the next 5 minutes I sit holding the document preparing my self to open it. I just watch it hoping that it will fade or slip in to a wormhole. If only I was programmed to work in dimensional time shifting instead of government and politics. My eyes drag to my desk which holds my presidential plaque. I snarl at it whilst ripping the seal neatly open. Inside there are two clips of papers. One A. One B. I look at them and wonder why these people decided to freeze themselves? They had it lucky, compared to now, England is flooded with famine. The country has been total anarchy for the last 70 years the country. Now it has been divided in to the upper class and the lower class. The two separated by a high security wall which is impossible to get above, well for the lower class that is. \"Shit my minds wondering, back to the matter at hand\"literally this was at hand, my two choices would either end in the death of a smallish group of the highest class who had froze themselves in 2200. They are some of the greatest minds to ever walk upon earth. But on the other hand it will end in the death of millions of the lower class. This whole project was costing the country Billions a month to sustain and in these times we cannot afford it.\n\n\"I know what choice everyone here demands me to sign\"I sighed, yet I'm not sure if i can. \"There must be another way around this\"I stared out of my window in to the Ultra high definition sky sponsored by Coca Solar which it told us in loud voices every hour. I looked down at the Coca Solar church and \"BAM!!\"it hit me. All we need to do is unfreeze them now. I sat back plugged my drug tray in and fell asleep smiling in to the face of the sun." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Add on to the sentence/ paragraph above yours to make one continuous story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*(I'll start.)*\n______________\nThe subway station purred with activity, as the train finally departed from the terminal. As the wheels skid against the metal underneath it, the conductor said over the loud-speaker, *\"Approx. forty minutes until the next stop.\"* I tilt my head back, plug in my earphones, and turn on my music. \n\nI tried to close my eyes, but I was soon interrupted by a text tone on my cell. I looked down, pressing the *open* button on my phone. It was from an unknown number; the text read: *\"We have forty minutes to play.*\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up in a supermarket parking lot and there is a timer stating that 6 minutes remain in the sky. The more horrific the better!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This prompt is based off of a nightmare I had about a week ago. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I love a good nightmare, and one like this has to be revived in words. I want to see what the writers of reddit do with an idea like this. I'm not much of a writer myself, but I will create a story based off the prompt as well. I will post it here, and possibly on another subreddit focused on finished stories." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One by one, Batman's Rogues Gallery die. The causes vary, but one thing is in common, and that is only one person ever comes to their funerals; Batman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was worried. The Batman had never shown emotion.\n\nRiddler had been making another death-trap, this time involving a 1/3^rd ton pendulum. Long story short: it fell on him while he was hanging it. It didn't take a genius to see it coming, really.\n\nWhen the news broke, the Batman showed up at the funeral. He stayed a distance away, viewing through binoculars. I know this because he told me that he searched for riddles during the ceremony that no one but him attended.\n\nRiddles? Did he think Nigma was faking it? But whatever. The Batman was never the most stable man alive. After all, I've never seen him show emotion.\n\nSix months later, a low-level goon, inspired by the paradigm shift caused by the super-villain's death, killed the Penguin so that he could \"take-over\". On his first outing, the Batman dispatched the group in 35 seconds. He showed up at the funeral (always in shadow). He said it was in case some rival gang showed up to ruin the funeral. No one did, for only one person showed up. Batman did not show any emotion.\n\nClayface died two years later. Batman said that Clayface just destabilized. It was going to happen sometime. Basil Carlo was a famous actor, and yet, only one showed up. He said that Basil starred in a movie that was important to him. I asked him if it was his favorite movie. He said no. It was just a Zorro movie. I didn't press the issue because I sensed he didn't want me to. I don't know how I could tell; Batman showed no emotion.\n\nHarvey committed suicide 3 years later. His note read that he couldn't take his obsession, and that he was sorry. The Batman showed up. He said that Harvey was the only healthy (i.e: non-work-related) friend that he ever had, and even that was years ago. Despite the very sad statement, the Batman showed no emotion.\n\nOver the next 10 years, the city got better. The mobs all fell (they'd been falling since Cobblepot's death). I'd managed to clean out the police department (with a little help). The people gained hope.\n\nAnd the Gotham villains all died. Their lucks ran out. The Batman always showed up. It was always was work related; Ivy's corpse had to be watched for fear of eco-terrorists stealing it. Croc's body would be hard to lower, and he had to watch to make sure it wasn't stolen for its scales.\n\nThen the last one died. Reportedly laughing.\n\nBatman showed up at the funeral. He started making a loud sound. Gasping, wailing. Laughing. It sounded more than familiar. He smiled as wide as I'd seen him, his laugh for a split second turning into the Clown's. Then he grimaced into his trademark neutral face. He made no other sound. He was back to normal.\n\nThat's how, for a single instant, I was able to see what the Batman was hiding from us, from himself. I understood now why he didn't kill; I saw through the excuses. I understood why he showed no emotion.\n\nHe was desperately trying to remain sane." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You and three celebrities are kidnapped by a deranged serial killer. You're given a choice: \"Fuck, Marry, Kill.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My head rested against 2 very hard pillows, the last thing that I remember was entering the bathroom in the hotel, I had no idea how my head was resting on a pillow, I struggled to open my eyes and concentrate. I placed my hand on the pillow and pushed myself up, I looked at the weird shaped pillow, long and hard until the image started to come together, Nicki Minaj's boobs, that was the picture. I jumped back and fell on a lady that was lying on her stomach. \"I am so sorry\"I said. but the lady was out deep, I had no idea where I was, it was dark you could barely see from the sunlight that was coming from the window at the top of the wall. \"Are you okay miss?\"I asked...still nothing, I turned her over to realize...it was Justin Bieber. A \"what the fuck\"was yelled I was bedazzled, astonished. Why on earth would I be in the same place with those 2 horrible people? \"it is just a dream Max\"I told myself \"snap out of it\". I took a few steps back still telling myself that it was a dream until a hand was placed on my shoulder. \"JESUS CHRIST\"I turned around to see that it was...Emma...Emma Watson \"It is okay, I am not going to hurt you\"she said in a sexy British accent. \"do you have any idea why we are here?\"I was still astonished by what I was seeing. \"are you okay?\"she placed her hand on my face \"you look very pale\"\"I...okay\"that was all I could say... \"What the fuck?\"said a voice from behind me Nicki Minaj was waking up. \"you! ass-face where the fuck am I? and why am I handcuffed like this?\"she was handcuffed to a pipe I wasn't aware of that. The other lady also started moaning, before opening his eyes and asking where he was. \"We don't know Justin we just woke up as well\"said Emma, Justin looked horrified, then he started crying \"ohh my god! I broke my fingernail.\"\"Stop being such a bitch\"yelled Nicki. Emma placed her hand on my shoulder \"it is going to be alright\"\n\n\n\nSuddenly a door was opened, and from behind it approached a someone with a mask and a remote in his hand. \"Good evening my lovely guests\"\n\n\n\n\n\"EVIL\"yelled Justin while turning the other way to cover his face with his hands while lying in a doggy-style position. Nicki rolled her eyes.\n\n\n\n\n\"Why am I doing this? I get bored from being nice all the time, so I just wanted to change things a bit by changing some lucky guy's life...forever. That's you max! you are the lucky guy. Now the rules of this game are very simple you have to do 3 things. Fuck Justin Bieber he is already in a doggy position, Marry Nicki Minaj that disgusting bitch, and finally Kill Emma Watson\"he said while throwing a pistol to me. \"If however any of you try to escape or you try to kill me with this pistol, If I take my hand off of this remote we will all be blown to pieces. make your choice\"\n\n\n\n\nI looked at the pistol, and the Justin in the doggy position, and at Nicki who was biting a gum which I had no idea where she got it from, and finally at Emma who placed her hand on my shoulder and while saying \"It is okay\". I didn't need a minute to think this through. I just shot Justin in the ass, shot Nicki in the head. and placed the pistol in my mouth and... \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"I saw her heartbeat stop... Moments later she finally woke up\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Clear!\"I yelled, even though I knew it was too late. \nHer body tensed as the electricity coursed through it, then went lax again. \n*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.* \nI removed the paddles and held them up for the nurse to add more lubricant. I stole a glance at the husband, his eyes glistening in the fluorescent light. Another nurse patted at the sweat on my forehead, and I gently pushed him away. \n*C’mon, baby. Here we go. Third time’s the charm.* \nI placed the defibrillator paddles back to her bare chest. “Clear!” \nHer body lurched for a quick second before falling limp yet again. \n*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.* \nSlowly, I removed the paddles and set them aside. I took a look at the clock next to the door and spoke into my microphone. “Time of death, 8:53P.M. Failed to resuscitate the patient after three attempts of defibrillation. Those present were myself, Doctor Gomes, nurse Philip Deckard, nurse Paul Marlowe and spouse of the deceased.” \nThe husband had been staring at his wife, fists clenched, tears running down his face, but snapped his head up when I spoke. \n“That’s it?” He asked in disbelief. “You’re done? A couple of shocks and *‘oh well, she’s gone?*'” \n“I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do.” \n“Bullshit there ain’t. She isn’t dead. She *can’t* be dead.” His face was turning a vibrant red. Spittle flew from his enraged mouth. \n*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.* \n“I understand this must be hard for you, sir, but there’s honestly nothing I can do. If I could bring back your wife, I would. I tried, believe me, I tried.” \n“Not enough,” he spat, and went to the side of his beloved. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, taking her hand in his, “I haven’t given up on you yet.” He opened her mouth with his free hand, pinched her nose, took in a deep breath, and blew into her mouth. \n“Sir, please don’t...” I began, “she’s gone.” \nHe ignored me and began pumping at her chest. “The hell she is.” He blew life-giving oxygen into her mouth again, pumped at her chest, waited a few seconds, and repeated the process. \nThe nurse Marlowe stepped to his side, “Please step away, sir, you can’t...” \n“You may have given up, but I sure haven’t.” The husband interrupted, and when Marlowe placed his hand on his shoulder the husband shoved him away, hard. Marlowe fell against the wall and the back of his head made a loud thwack when it hit. Dazed, Marlowe fell to the floor. \n“*Keep away from me!*” The husband said, and went back to blowing into his wife’s mouth. \n*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.* \n“Get security up here,” I whispered to Deckard. “Sir,” I said louder, “step away from your wife, now. And don’t assault any of my staff or I’ll have you arrested. I know this is hard, but your wife is gone.” \n*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Beep. Beep. Beep.* \nThe husband stepped away from his wife, a triumphant smile on his face, and her eyes flew open. She gasped loud and ragged, coughing up blood, phlegm and God knows what else. \nMarlowe stared at the wife in amazement. I was speechless. \nThe husband looked at me, beaming with joy. “Go fuck yourself, Doc.”\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One day you decide to do something you never do, sing along to a song in public. Quickly, you realize that the people that hear you are compelled to do whatever lyric you sing out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I listened to Pandora on my phone, one of my earbuds slipped out. I fumbled around with it before replacing it in my ear. The song I was listening to ended, and next up...*Hm, Lonely Island. This is a pretty good song.* \n\nI found myself singing along and looked around, partially out of fear of embarassment, partially out of the plain urge to look around. When I looked around, however, the other citizens were doing very odd things, and some arousing things. I eventually found myself at the end, amazed at what just happened. \"We're going kindergarten~\"I sang as the others shook off a glaze." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Following an interview, a journalist writes two very different set of reports.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ha, that Guardian hack couldn't interview his way out of a paper bag.\"Jack laughed as he scanned his rival's article, newly published on the glowing white website which illuminated his face in the darkened room. \"I'll show him, I'll tell the real truth, the one that *they* won't want me to write.\"\n\nHis fingers darted over the keyboard now, writing up his own report. He looked down, trying to interpret the incomprehensible notes he had taken. Listening and re-listening to the interview he had conducted with the same Professor.\n\nJack could read between the lines, it wasn't so much what the Professor had said but what he had not said. Sure he had been called, like many other so called journalists, by the Universities PR team announcing a minor discovery in the outer solar system. But Jack had seen the man's eyes dart around when he had started to ask the difficult questions. Oh, the professor managed to dodge his questions and give some simple answer but Jack wasn't satisfied. He had kept pressing, ignoring protests such as \"not in my area of expertise\"and \"but back to the subject of P3X359\", and finally he had got the admission he had hoped for. \"Alright, yes I suppose\"rang in his ears for the fifth time as he listened again, it was incontrovertible truth.\n\nThe Public must know the truth! This is a matter of the most utmost importance and the fate of the Nation, nay the world could be at stake. The catastrophic nature of the revelations that he had managed to uncover would blow the lid off the cover story fed to his readers for generations. His fingers danced over the keys, line after line of world changing prose filled the screen.\n\nAt last it was written, he proof read and re read the entire thing and after taking a long drink of something strong, sent his draft to the editor. He could see his article front and center, almost in a montage, being handed out by tomorrows paper boys, by shouting vendors in the street. He closed his eyes as he could see the scandal unfold before his eyes, sackings at parliament would be in order, the Prime Minister herself might have to step down. The level of deception the public had gone through must lead to some heads rolling.\n\nHis laptop pinged back at him, it was a reply by the Editor. As expected he was wowed, and that if Jack could confirm his sources it would go out the very next day. Jack grinned at the screen, he had his sources, this would be his big break! No more school sports days and shop openings, he was in the big leagues now. Writing back confirmation that everything in the article was 100% true and backed by sources he sat back in his chair, pleased with his days work.\n\nThe next morning whilst the *other papers* were running stories about some drivel about the latest celebrity baby, the Daily Mail proudly displayed in big bold letters\n\n**Scientists Confirm Immigrants really are stealing our wheelie bins**" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "How the Bahamas was named!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long long time ago there was a place called the Brohamas. This island was known for immense beauty and dazzling oceans. The island was populated by the \"Bro's\"a tribe of immensely awesome people who would shoot the shit, drink cheap beer and do Bro like things all day. They were especially known for there skills with telling awesome jokes to each other and of course playing the didgeridoo. They would jam all day long wearing whatever the fuck they wanted and basicalling Bro'ing out. The Bro's coveted all things to do with there amazing instruments and insulting a didgeridoo or it's owners music is the worst insult to a bro. These awesome skills and attributes of course drew a lot of unneeded attention and jealousy, especially from the tribe of the Bae's. This tribe was full of pussy whipped bitches who would tend to there girlfriends needs all day. They were very jealous and wanted to be just like the Bro's. The also lived on the Brohama's islands. They did not jam out and told jokes that were unenjoyable and mostly just gay. One day during a Bro-down (a party where all the Bro's would tell jokes and jam out with didgeridoos) a couple faggy Bae's had wondered over. While the Bro's were playing, the Bae's started mocking them and saying gay jokes like \"music is for douches\"and \"creepy jokes about the Bro's girls\"\nThese insults had no effect on the Bro's. Until one of the Bae's thought of the most clever and insulting joke any person could say to a Bro. \"Didgeridoo's make faggotry music, you mine as well call them Didgeridonts so no one will play them\"...... all the Bro's were taken back by the clever joke, none of the bros had ever gone to such lengths to insult each other. This caused massive depression in the tribe and caused the population of Bro's to almost die out. When the Bro's were mostly gone the Bae's had taken over the island and renamed it to the \"Ba\"hamas (The exact pronunciation was lost over time). The good news is eventually the Bro's made a full come back and repopulated the Bahamas. They decided to leave the name in order to avoid future disputes with the Bae's. Instead of playing the didgeridoo they created reggae and continued to be awesome. \nThe Bae's had moved to France and took over there. This is why French people are pussy's and most importantly that is how the Bahamas had gotten it's name." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Reincarnation is real, but you're the only person who can remember their past lives." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I entered this life in the same way i left my last. Unable to wipe my ass. Couple that with the greatest of taboos of sucking on your mother teats four times a day. This is a living hell. \n\nI'm technically three times older than my current parents. I'd safely say acutely more intelligent as well. Judging by the way they talk to me as a baby, my often soiled diaper has more mental capacity. \n\nIn years to come I'll grow to be self sufficient. In the meantime I'll wait for the hormones of puberty to blend with my ripe intelligence. I worry they'll blend to create the new Hitler. \n\nI live in fear every day. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a sci-fi like future, somebody accidently shouts out \"the bad word\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't fucking touch me you dirty Kwen!\"screamed the human in the middle of the cafeteria of West Quagarth Intergalactic High. \n\nThe cafeteria fell silent. Nobody used that word, especially those elitist humans. Then everyone looked to the scrawny Quoc. He was one of the very few allowed to come to the school. His people were spat upon in majority of the universe. They were hard, menial laborers. However, this one in particular had earned a scholarship to come to West Quagarth. The school bully, Connor, came from rich parents who owned a planet or two and was used to the Quocs serving his every whim. So when this one, Nitram, touched him without 'permission' he of course he was offended. What happened next was something for the history books. \n\n\"I said... don't FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU DIRTY KWEN!!!\"screamed Connor, a vein popping out of his temple, turning red with rage. \n\nNitram looked at the ground, fists clenched. He mumbled something.\n\n\"What did you say? Can you even fucking speak? Huh, you dirty kwen? How the hell did they let you in anyways?\"\nHis fists clenched tighter, his natural muscles from generations working the mines flexed. He said something again inaudibly.\n\nConnor gets up and shoves him, \"You got something to say you piece of trash kwen?! HUH?!\"\nThen, Nitram looks up. He looks him dead in the face and says, \"That's our word, you can't say it. You haven't earned the right. It used to be a term of respect from one Quoc to another that my ancestors used. It meant 'brother.' Then you elitist watersacks enslaved us and started calling us that. Spitting it with such disdain. Tainting its meaning. We suffered through centuries of slavery because of your greed. Mine this planet dry of its wealth then move on to the next one. We are fucking property to you shitheads. And this the first step in getting my people freedom.\"A tear of sheer rage and and \nanger runs down his face. \nHe cocks his arm back and slings it straight at Connor's now-terrified face. Connor closes his eyes. What happens next we could have never predicted.\nHe stops a centimeter from his face.\nConnor slowly opens his eyes after realizing there was no collision.\n\"I could have ended you life with that punch. I would have been justified because I worked on your family's planet in conditions that would make you shit yourself just to think about, but violence isn't the answer. If I killed you, someone would come kill me and the cycle of violence would never stop. An eye for an eye makes the whole universe blind. I'm stopping it here... I forgive you... Kwen.\"\nHe hugged him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You receive a book that just fell out of the sky, written in an alien language, but you realize that you can read it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Humans* \n*An experiment* \n\nThe short and weightless book lied near the trash can, about 2 feet or so from where I was. I took the small object and looked around, intrigued. For some odd reason I was alone, even though I was in the park in a Friday evening. The cover was intact, in fact,the hole book was brand new. \"Holy shit\"I whispered to myself, the symbols printed on the artefact were anything but a human language, but I could read it.\n\n*It all began millions of years ago, our ancestors created Wat-Er, the planet were the biggest experiment in our history took off.* \n\nI shouldn't have found this thing. I really shouldn't have." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're the Captain of a small trade ship. You've encountered another vessel, you either fall in love with the other Captain, or go out in a blaze of glory." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rig waited in the dark as her ship sank.\n\nThe deep space pirates had developed a new method of attacking freighters. A saboteur infilitrates the impulses of the ship's Artificial Wizard while docked. After a few months, the ship feels a compulsion to shut down and provide the pirate fleet with rendevous coordinates.\n\nFirst, the engines slowly wink out. The wizard mind realizes oxygen must be a poison that had to be removed. All the doors had to open. The crew would be spaced before they had time to adjust to the decleration.\n\nThe pirates would come around, fill the ship first with a gripping foam and then a surfacant gel. The gel would contain all cargo and anything not tied down. The pirates would then vacuum up the gel to sort the cargo. They then commandeered the sterilized ship or blew it up for scrap, depending on mood.\n\nRig snoozed in her off-grid privacy POD. POD roughly matched the size of a dumptruck turned on its side. A panel opened, automatically dressing her in a bronze PEAK performance suit. Personal Emergency Assement Kit. The click of her atmospheric helmet forced her out of her daze.\n\nRig hadn't even opened her eyes and she already had two conflicting auditory reports. POD's every assesment disagreed with the data the ship's Oracle provided her. POD thought the end had arrived. Oracle thought everything was okay.\n\nShe opened her eyes. With that, Oracle had new ideas about the most vital information Rig must know at that moment. Her visor overwhelmed her with charts on optimal chair configurations, sanitation procedures, dressage etiquette, soylent recipes, diy dragonfly tulpa tutorials, seventeen years backlog of disproven nanoparticle research articles.\n\nThe squares that floated in front of her vision stretched for miles. The more she dismissed the more appeared. Every command brought another wave.\n\nSometimes a black swath blocked her view of her surroundings, a blindness infection. Her custom security module made it only last a second but the cyberware attack would not relent.\n\nRig poked the corner of her eyelid and blinked twice to deactivate her ocular film VIZOR connection to Oracle. Its illusions had no valuable information. The ship's madness and whispered lies could only mean infilitration.\n\nRig could find no traces of activity outside of her pod. It seemed vital power had been redirected to provide auxilarly support to an airpump, a tiny messhall jukebox, and the lighting of the third shower unit.\n\nShe felt the tell-tale low bass thump of another ship forming a dock connection, the hiss of all exterior doors closing. The interior walls popped as the cargo bay filled with foam. The pod could withstand ten atmo-psi, once the gel finished distributing, it would only be facing seven at most.\n\nShe reached her hand forward and pulled a small rectangular metal box out of the wall. It had twelve switches, four knobs, six lights, and a joystick toggle. She had built it from a box of scraps.no sensor array would recognize it.\n\nRig pushed a series of buttons. The ship sweated kerodiesel by the gallon. It covered every surface, spewed out in torrents by every likely docking point. It blended with the injected pirate foam.\n\nRig pushed another combination of keys. The ship ignited everything that could catch fire. The flame ran through the umbilicus and into the pirate vessel. POD reported some scorching to its body but nothing that couldn't be patched later. \n\nThe heat-activated nanites began their work of consuming the Artificial Wizard and the engine block. Those in seek mode made their way to the pirate ship to consume organic manner. \n\nRig activated her viewport and patched into Rocket Number Nine. The pirate ship appeared to be Captain Beka's flagship. She had no way to be sure if Beka was on board but destroying the flagship might actually be better punishment than death. She commanded rocket number nine to crash into the side of the flagship and release its payload. \n\nBefore Rig had the satisfaction of witnessing impact, her nanites finished chewing their way through the engine. The freight ship exploded, taking the flagship with it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Superman is taking on a sidekick. You're allowed 30 words or less in your interview on why you should get the job." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Daniel's sweat had left the chair a little bit humid. He was the next one. Superman wanted a new sidekick, and like many people his age, he had applied. And now he was about to be called.\n\nThe person that had come before him exited the room where the living legend was conducting the hiring himself. And now it was his turn. All his life he had been training for this moment. Even before Superman had even conceived this process to hiring a sidekick, he was already training to become a superhero.\n\nAnd now Superman was in front of him, asking him to tell the myth made man in thirty words or less why he should be taken in.\n\nThe world was spinning around him. He was starting to feel sick, but he regained composure and started talking, with a resolution he didn't know he had hidden inside him.\n\n\"I'm the best around. Nothing's gonna ever keep me down. Fight till I drop, never stop, I can't give up till I win sometime...\"\n\nAnd so, Superman and The Karate Kid helped make the world a better place." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Aliens propose to eliminate all humans from Earth in a certain order. The ordering of the humans on the list is completely random. You have been informed that you are number 1 on the list..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Imperial Henwek King-Emperor is holding a long scroll of names and numbers. He begins to read aloud from it. I don't have to wait long. An interpreter begins translating the moment the King-Emperor begins reading.\n\n\"First, Richelle Barber, of Pittsburgh.\"\n\nThere is no time for thought. They are coming for me, and now. I turn on my heel and run. I knew I would have to wear comfortable shoes today. They are ridiculously fast, zooming along in their little pods, but I know this area of the city better than them and I intend to use it. Hopefully I can stall for some time, and maybe the other ~~people~~ numbers will form an uprising and overthrow the King-Emperor.\n\nI can't avoid death forever. I know this. They will catch me and I will be publicly executed by boiling. But I sure as Hell hope that I'm setting an example for the others. The Henwek will fall, but in the meantime, I'm running." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Global overpopulation has forced governments to set a life limit of 50 years. You turn 50 in 5 minutes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I look at my watch my clock in tick as my last five minutes come to a close.Five minutes left tick*tock*tick*tock. Thinking back to my days as a child it seems so surreal remembering the countryside home my family used to live in disappear with the time to become a urban metropolis. Four minutes left tick*tock*tick*tock. They always told me my family was the last to live in what they called rural country. I also remember when the protocol was established. Every old man and woman purged. Three minutes left tick*tock*tick*tock. I remember the screams, oh the screams, and the begging. The young blamed the old for the overpopulation. One old woman I remember they kept beating and beating you could hear her bones cracking through the screams until there was no more screams just the thud of her being beaten until it looked like she had shriveled to dust. Two minutes tick*tock*tick*tock. Her eyes were cold lifeless and dead. I come to the realization my death will be just as brutal. There was a time when the world government cared for human rights but as the globe became overpopulated the parties became more extreme the elections less free until the elections stopped and life became expendable. One minute tick*tock*tick*tock. I think about how my life has been better than most as I put the gun to my head. I think about how my wife has already been neutralized. I think about my son, but mostly I think about that old woman as I look at the clock as I hear a loud bang at the door and I pull." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Two schizophrenics realize that they both hear the same voices." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frank looked at Harry and his eyes narrowed. \"How do i know you are not just a projection of my own mind then, huh Harry?\"\n\nHarry's breath caught in his throat. Frank had a point, how DID he know that he wasn't just a projection? *\"You don't Harry...Isn't that perfect?\"* Harry froze, his eyes fixed on Franks impatient stare, waiting for an answer he couldn't provide. If he could hear the voice in his head, what would stop Frank from hearing it too? What if the voice confirmed their fears and told both him and Frank that Harry was simply a mental projection easily eliminated by- *''By what, Harry?\"*\n\n\"Yeah Harry, by what?\"Frank moved slowly towards Harry, cracking his knuckles and shaking his head as if to silence the stream of instructions being delivered by the voice.\n\n*\"You know, i could be telling him something and choosing not to let you hear it Harry....You know that, which is why you are sweating so much, isn't it? ISN'T IT???? Oh boy, this is gonna be fun....hahahahaaaaaaa!\"*\n\nHarry stepped back slowly, trying to maintain a good distance between him and Frank. He could feel his heart in his mouth and his shirt was drenched with sweat. He looked around for an exit, spotted it right behind Franks advancing, hulking frame.\n\n**crack, crack, crrrraaaccckkkk** \n\nThe sound of Franks knuckles cracking ricocheted around the room and jolted the adrenaline through Harry's veins as he dashed left, then bolted across the room to the heavy metal door. His hands scrabbled at the handle but no matter how much he tried, he could not get a grip and he knew he was trapped.\n\n*\"How can a projection open a cast iron door, Harry?\"*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A wo/man whose insane realizes they weren't even insane to begin with. They were simply peering into another dimension." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am awake.\n\nMy mind is a mess. Colors, noises, voices and pictures are constantly streaming in and out. I can't focus on one thought.\n\nI am sweaty.\n\nMy heart races. My stomach stands up in rebellion. My muscles shake in fear.\n\nI am at home. \n\nLight is coming through the blinds of my window. I hear birds tweet. I can hear laughter of children somewhere outside.\n\nMy mind ist beginning to settle itself, like water after it has finished to boil in a now cooling kettle. Now, thoughts are creeping through my head in slow-motion. I am insane. I am not insane. Have I dreamed? I haven't dreamed.\n\nI Remember.\n\nThere was hole, a hole in my ceiling. I could feel being slowly lifted by magnificent force. I remember that i was looking up, up to the ceiling. I was looking at things, which cannot be worded. \n\nI was pierced.\n\nMy eyes were blind of light and my mind was emptied out by thickening darkness. I felt like an empty sack, being filled with burning coal.\n\nI was released...\n\nI am awake.\n\nI stand up, barely being able to keep balance. Slowly making my way to the bathroom for my face burns and i feel like the cold water from the tab would relieve my pain. As I reach the Bathroom, i look into the mirror. I scream loudly in horror. I can barely recognize myself. How long have i been away? I reach for my cellphone in my pant bags to look at the date. After trying to turn it on i realize that the batterie is empty. Everything is dusty...\n\n As reports say, a mentally ill man who as been constantly treated in a\n mental hospitel and who fled said hospital countless times in the past\n 10 years and who has been reported missing for the last two years,\n was found. Doctors say, that he is currently in a mentally healthy\n state due to unknown circumstances.\n\n The man had been diagnosed with a severe bipolar disorder ten years \n ago after an incitend where he broke into the local observatory. Later\n scientists, working in that observatory found him there, rambling \n unintelligibly.\n\n Now for the weather report with Micheal Copperfield." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the near future, those sentenced to the death penalty are released into the real world again, after choosing how they will be killed. You are the executioner." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was a hunter. They were the quarry.\n\nIt was a big hit among the public, really. After the plague, and the third world war, they were clamoring for more circus to go along with their bread. The convict hunts were an answer to that. It took away the fuck ups and malcontents, and yet gave them a chance.\n\nBut I never hesitated. I was good. I felt a rush, doing my job, something that can only be known by those who have killed another man. I was hunting them for the government, sure, but in a way, it was just another way of getting my killing fix. \n\nAnother day, another dead man." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Somone giving advice to someone else." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know what I learned when I was a kid? People are bastards, and you've got to take whatever you can, whenever you can. You've got to learn that for yourself, Murphy.\"\n\n\"You're such a cynic, Agnes. Jesus, what's wrong with you, Grandma?\"\n\n\"Did I ever tell you about the time your mother tried to have you aborted, and you managed to survive?\"\n\n\"Uhh. What?!\"\n\n\"Murphy, you've got to figure out how rotten the world is. Now give me your hands. You have to put them in these wicker gloves that I wove bullet ants into. It's the only way you can become a man.\"\n\n\"Have you been taking your crazy people medicine, Grandma? I'm not putting my hands into gloves with bullet ants in them. That does not sound pleasant.\"\n\n\"Whatever, you coward. I'll eat your goddamned heart.\"\n\n\"Grandma, no!\"But it was too late. His Grandma had removed his heart, because he was a lousy, disloyal grandson. Always respect the bible and honor your mother and father, and put your hands in the bullet ants. Amen." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up to see the clouds have hardened and now slowly plummet to earth. What do you do ? Describe the destruction." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one believed that crazy bastard Little until it actually happened. The sky was falling.\n\nSome people thought running for their lives was a good idea and hope not to be crushed by the once so fluffy puffs.\n\nOthers were still in shock. Standing there, staring up like roosters in the rain while building come crashing down on top of them.\n\nThe weak were being trampled and reckless where running them over. In this disaster, those selfish idiots are only making things worse.\n\nThese clouds were tired of being bunnies and ponies for little kids to imagine and they were bringing hell.\n\nThis was Mother Nature showing us that she's in charge and she will fuck shit up if she has to.\n\nMay as well be the end of days. Who knows what will come next..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Sterling Archer and Quint from Jaws get into a drunken argument over whether sharks or crocodiles are more dangerous." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(No description, just dialogue. Forgive me if I'm more familiar with Archer's speech and strangely encyclopedic knowledge of both sharks and crocs among other things than I am about Quint. I saw Jaws a couple times as a child, and couldn't tell you much about it.)\n\n\n\"I've swam with sharks, asshole, you're making that shit up\".\n\nI've fought Great Whites boy, I've seen my friends eaten, had my boat nearly destroyed--\"\n\n\"Yeah, and your friends were half of the 10 people that are seriously injured or killed by a shark every year! Face it, if you weren't, I don't know, provoking a Goddamn SHARK, you probably would have been fine.\n\n\"That shark was killing beach-goers. We had to do something!\"\n\n\"How about finding out why a fucking Great White was that close to shore in the first place? Maybe instead of grabbing a bunch of dickheads like you and going out and shooting darts at it from a dinghy, you do any of the probably dozen things that would have gotten rid of the shark. Things like, forcing it out to sea with netting, baiting the water to lure it out there, or using soundwaves to scare it off?\"\n\n\"Those things kill. That's all I know\"\n\n\"Yeah, and *I* know they kill 10 people worldwide each year! Meanwhile we kill tens of thousands each month\"\n\n\"How many people do crocodiles kill?\"\n\n\"Exactly?\"\n\n\"No, ballpark it to an error of ten million, give or take\"\n\n\"You leave the biting sarcasm to the pros, old shark-bait. I don't know how many exactly, but I do know a fucking shark can't come on land and eat your ass! When's the last time you had to worry about a shark coming up on a golf course? I've golfed before, buddy, those water hazards aren't that deep.\"\n\n\"Sure, and a crocodile can't sense your electrical impulses and hunt you down without even smelling you. Which it can, from up to 5 miles away. \"\n\n\"A shark can't even see you if you're directly above it,\"\n\n\"You can't hold down a shark's muzzle with your bare hands\"\n\n\"Sure, but if you punch one in the nose a few times you can get away fairly clean\"\n\n\"Maybe if you're Mike Tyson! It happens but don't count on it. A shark's teeth are razor-sharp, they point inward, can regenerate after breaking or falling out, there are ROWS of them, up to 3-fucking-hundred, and oh, they are attached to jaws that have one of the strongest bite-forces in the world!\"\n\n\"You know what has THE strongest bite-force? Crocodile. Boom. I win.\"\n\n\"Dude, I'm not going to be afraid of something people wrestle for fun! People make careers out of tying string around those things mouths AND fucking hog-tying them. Try that shit with any decently sized shark!\"\n\n\"Try that shit with any decently sized crocodile! And I'm not about to be afraid of something people pay money to swim with! You know what happens when you swim with a crocodile that hasn't eaten? You get ate! Oh, and by the way, did you know that Killer Whales go out of their way to find and drown Great Whites? No reason, just cuz' they can! You are scared of a fish that can drown!\"\n\n\"You're scared of something a 9 year old girl can subdue with a rope tied to a stick! I watched it happen!\"\n\n\"Tell you what: I'll buy your story the next time they slice open a shark belly and find half a human in it\"\n\n\"And I'll buy yours when a croc capsizes a 60 foot rig and makes off with the entire crew!\"\n\n\"You're still makin' that shit up\"." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Gimme something interesting! Make me think!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I groaned as my alarm clock read 3:15 a.m. Ugh this insomnia. I have to stop texting my girlfriend all night.. I thought to myself. As I looked back at my phone and scrolled back up to the top of the Reddit Front page, I noticed there were some new posts I hadn’t seen. Instantly, I sat up in my bed. Did I just read that properly?\nNUCLEAR WAR DECLARED IN MIDDLE EAST\nNo... It cant be? I knew the GCC were having some arguments but they wouldn’t have I started a war. But before I could click open the article, my phone was flooded with notifications. Facebook inboxes, tweets, whatsapp messages, every social networking and messaging application was being used to contact me.\n“Bro u alright? Howr things arnd u?”\n“Taro we have to leave now. Mike and I are on our way.”\n“Dude wtf is going on????”\nAs I read the messages, my girlfriend called. “Taro what the hell happened?! Things were fine just half an hour ago when we were talking” her voice trembled from fear “where do we go?” It was a good question she posed. I myself didn’t know what to do. “look we meet up at the park and see how things are okay?” I replied. “okay” she said shakily and cut the call. My head was spinning. I couldn’t think straight. So many thoughts whizzed through my mind as I fumbled with wearing whatever I had around me.\nA nuclear war and im right in the middle of it all what the hell where do I go what do I do what about food and transport and oh God what about my friends what are they going to do holy shit man this is INSANE. I stumbled with the keys to unlock the door. but there’s Rose too.. oh God what are we going to do I have no clue where to go.\nI snapped back into reality. There were police cars yelling things in Arabic everywhere, car screeches, horns honking madly. BOOOOOMMMM oh shit! An explosion?! I gotta go to Rose. I ran as fast as I could to the park and there she was in our spot on the hills where we always sat. She sat there in tears looking around frantically for a safe spot. “Hey hey don’t worry it’ll be alright. Don’t cry. We’re together on this” I told her hugging her as I wiped away her tears. She mumbled something I couldn’t put together.\nWe sat down and held each other’s hand as we attempted to cleared our minds and tried to think clearly out of all the chaos that was erupting around us. BOOOMMMM. Another explosion how perfect I thought to myself. But this explosion was nearer to us than the previous one. I couldn’t think of any place else to go. She started tearing again and hugged me tightly.\nWe sat there in the park on the bench holding each other trying to block out the things going on around us. This is it I guess. But at least we’re together right? I thought to myself as I hugged her and kissed her head. I looked up into the night sky which was now lit up with the burning buildings around us and reminisced at how the stars would glisten during this time and how the streets would be so quiet. Just as another explosion, even closer to us, went off I whispered softly into her ear “I love you\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've moved into a new house in the city. There is a small patch of overgrown, gnarled plants along the fence in your backyard. Your dog is obsessed with, but terrified of them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It’s the only part of the backyard he won’t take a piss in. That’s the first sign that something isn’t normal. \n\nAbout seventy-five pounds of huskey so pure that he’s basically a wolf, Macchiato is the inarguable king of any ground he’s ever walked on. He’s always liked to illustrate his reign by relieving himself on any unattended patch of grass he comes across. Or on the shoes of people he finds irritating. He’s made it impossible for me to grow daisies or keep a boyfriend very long. I put up with this charming little quirk because otherwise he’s a good mutt. He’s so lazy he probably wouldn’t move if his tail was on fire, yet his size and white-blue irises scare the shit out of people and keeps them away. He’s perfect. Plus he only ever had an accident *inside* the house once, and that couch was ugly anyway. \n\t\nIt takes me a couple of days to notice how he’s acting about the fence. I’m admittedly distracted by the new job and the move. Then again, I’ve never been good about being one of those obsessed pet owners. I don’t see Mac as my furry child as much as I see him as my furry roommate. He does his thing and I do mine. I keep food in his bowl and throw a ball to him now and again. In turn, he protects me from predators and keeps me warm on the couch in winter. It’s without a doubt the best relationship I’ve ever had. I even get the bed to myself because he actually prefers the rug. \n\n“If you ruin the herb garden, I swear you’re going to the shelter,” I scowl over the crime novel I’ve been reading while my wooly marauder has been getting twenty minutes of weekly exercise by bug-stalking. I noticed his familiar sniffing around the cilantro, and I’m not having it. “Go spread your essence on that knobby stuff over there.” I jerk a hand toward the gnarled, savage mess of plant life that’s growing along the back fence. I know he’s not smart enough to know my words, but hand gestures and tone he’s got down. He hesitates. I raise my brow. He’d been doing a far bit of barking at the ugly plants just a little bit earlier, so I’d thought he was fascinated by them. I hated when he went on little barking jags, but I’ve been letting him have his fun since I plan for those bushes and vines to be cleared the moment I save up enough for a landscaper. \n\nMacchiato trudges forward slowly toward the direction I’ve snapped and pointed in again. I keep looking because I have about as much faith animals as I do people and I need to see that my words are being heeded rather than blindly trusting. My dog obeys, but his barking picks up again. Then as he closes in, I notice something peculiar. His limbs are shaking a little. The bark is threatening, but his stance is one of complete fear. He’s a wolf. I’ve never seen him afraid, even of me. I blink, pushing my sunglasses up my nose to reassess when I hear it amidst his harsh howling. \n\nHe whimpers. \n\nI must care about him more than I’ve admitted to myself, because I pop off my rickety lawn chair, and rush over. I just know he’s had to have stepped on some shard of glass or something. I’ll kill him if I get blood on my white shorts. I’m just about to kneel down and appraise the damage when I catch a whiff of something strange on the wind. \n\nSuddenly I’m walking past my pup, forgetting he’s even there.\n\nIt’s a familiar and nostalgic smell that I can’t place. It fills my nose almost suffocating me. I can feel my heart racing. I don’t know if its excitement or terror, but I know that I have to reach that briary patch of mess and get to the bottom of the intoxicating scent. I don’t even know if it’s because I’m enticed by the smell or want to get rid of its source. I reach out for the closest leaf to push it back, ignoring the now wracking shaking of my hand. I grasp the leaf for a full few seconds before I realize that I can’t feel it. Its flimsy weight and rough texture aren’t registering to my hand. \n\n I try to release it, but my fingers seem to ignore my brain’s desperate order. Over and over again I try to move my fingers, but they’re now stuck around the plant like a vise. I try a new tactic, giving my legs a similar order. They won’t seem to listen either. Paralysis. Retreat seems impossible at this point. I can’t feel him against them, but my eye catches white-brown fluff and I see that Macchiato is between my knees now growling like I’ve never heard him before. I want to hush him, but my lips are following suit with other parts of my body.\n\n Only my eyes are still working properly. I blink them furiously, stinging sweat beginning to rush into them. The smell is so thick now that I can practically feel it being transported from my nostrils into my lungs. I make the only movement I can by scrunching up my nose and closing my eyes tight as some kind of weak, desperate defense. When I open them, from the black depth of the patchy plant cluster, I’m staring at a pale, grey outstretched hand. It turns upward, exposing a smooth palm. A single, slender finger moves in a common motion. \n\nI’m being beckoned forward. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Each year, a council of humanity's greatest minds convene to decide what changes to make to the next generation of humans. This year, they discuss the necessity of innate morality." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Innate morality had always appeared an axiom to me.\n\nTake for example the following two extremes: Punching a newborn baby and a young couple falling in love.\n\nI would argue that from every sane reference frame a young couple falling in love is 'better' than punching a newborn baby and that relativity plays no roll. I understand that there are very intellectual philosophical arguments against this idea, but to me it seems obvious that there is an intuitive knowing built into the human condition that eclipses these so-called 'advanced' labyrinths of academic thought.\n\nThe truth will never reside in ones mind, reality does not live inside of concepts. \n\nFurthermore, It seems with this definition of innate morality that absolute morality is also an axiom. I say this because my definition of innate morality is birthed by an 'obviousness' that is made undeniable in my rather extreme example and I believe that this obviousness transcends the unique individual soul and is an un-unique/static knowing for all inhabitants of these four dimensions.\n\nOne last step. With absolute morality comes the inevitability of some degree of absolute truth. I'm tired of typing and I feel like even if I did try to express why these two ideas are inevitably connected I would only be stating a wordy 'well duh'. \n\nSo yeah... Innate morality = Absolute Morality = Absolute truth.\n\nIn conclusion, Miley Cyrus is the antichrist. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The tragic life and death of a balloon animal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Too late condoms. That what we used to call ourselves. You know? Because, we're also made of rubber? You get it? Yo-.. Yeh you got it. Okay so. Here we are all fresh in a bag waiting to be made into fantastic creations. We were all speculating on what we were going to be. Probably a lot of giraffes and those sausage dogs. Maybe a dolphin if we were lucky. \n\nThe bag was opened. Fresh air rushed in. We were told about this by the elders. This day would come. The day that we went from shapeless colourful forms of rubber to glorious everlasting creatures. We all were piled upon a table. Left and right fellow comrades were pulled away.\n\n''There sure are a lot of balloon artists here'' I thought. Suddenly I felt a jerk. I was lifted up into the air. I hardly could contain my excitement. I really hope I am going to be an elephant!\n\nA wet mouth formed around my opening. Air mixed with a lot of saliva entered me. Strange, the elders never said anything about this amount of moisture. Nevertheless I soon was all full. I noticed I changed hands, my opening was closed by much more rough hands than the ones that were holding me. A moment later I found myself back in those soft hands. Why would a balloon artist make someone else tie my end? Maybe he is too good for such a low task. Yes. That must be it I thought.\n\nAnd so began the twisting and the knotting of me. It was excruciating, the pain was unbearable. But I held. Others around me couldn't take it anymore and popped. Sweet relief.\n\nIt would soon be over. I shut myself off from the forming. \n\nSuddenly there was no more movement. I looked about, I was put down on the floor next to a piece of cake and a broken balloon. What have I become? I looked at myself....I was still.. just a balloon?! What is this?! \n\nSuddenly I heard a voice ''Eddy! Come show us what balloon animal you made!''. I was picked up by those soft hands again. ''Wonderful Eddy! What animal is that?'' ''It's uh.. a.. uhhw...Worm! Yes! I made a worm!''\n\nThis is not what I imagined. The elders lied.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The house in Poltergeist did not collapse into itself, instead it is now the most popular tourist attraction of all time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a big house to start with, but apparently, if you build a skyscraper on top of it, that *also* becomes haunted. \nThe first few years after the spiritualists took a swing at it, the businessmen decided to go for it. Legally, there was no reason they couldn't buy it. Of course they were killed almost instantly. One of them had a daughter...Rebecca I think. She went in with a Scrabble board and some fine grain powder. After a few weeks, they developed a rapport. \nAfter much deliberation with the spirit world, she convinced them to let the outside world in. I spoke with her once. I honestly think she is more charismatic than they are deadly. She died of natural causes and hasn't been heard from since. \nIn a lot of ways, working there is what I imagine working at Sea World is like. The first week we were taught to communicate with them with the Ouija board, a kettle drum, and candles. One of them goes by Ohanzee. He so has a crush on me. He has on more than one occasion brought me flowers. I have no idea how, but they're always in my locker. \nThe second week you can either work in the museum, the amusement park, the concession stand, or customer service. I started in the museum, but I was moved to customer service after settling more than one guest altercation. Apparently the sign that reads 'Don't mock the spirits' is funny to some people. \nMy favorite gambit is sitting at the end of the bar and telling 'Mack' to give me a beer. A stein would come off the wall and glide into my hand filled with cider. (When I worked there, I was 17.) \nOne night I stayed late to clean up after the Halloween party. Streamers and soda cups. I kept thinking of that movie where the Indian guy cries by the highway. \nAfter I finished my shift and punched out, I took the stairs down to the basement. As I went down the steps I heard this soul ripping scream behind me in the distance. The further down I went, the louder and closer it got until it was right behind me. I turned around and knelt down, face to face with a faint patch of mist. \"The party's over.\"I said to her \"It's time for bed, Dowanhowee\". Immediately the screaming stopped. The patch of mist followed me to the basement an left me at my locker. \"Good night, Dowanhowee!\"I called out behind me. She mimicked the mew of our house's cat perfectly. She loved cats. \nI put my key in my locker, but it wouldn't budge. I tried again with a little more effort and it gave way. I put my hat in my bag, my bag on my back and locked up. As I turned around, a small bouquet of lilacs fell from the ceiling at my feet. Ohanzee again. \nBefore I could pick them up, he tore them into pieces and started scattering the petals in a line. Of course I followed him to the elevator. He pressed the button to the observation deck on the 20th floor, past the guest rooms. The deliberately spooky elevator felt warm with Ohanzee beside me. I reached out for what I believed to be his hand. I felt fingers grasp around mine before they released. Touching the living is apparently very exhausting. \nI asked him what all this was about. He pointed at the alphabet tattoo on my arm and poked 'U' 'L' and 'C'. I confirmed with him. \"You'll see?\"\n He pointed at the word 'Yes'. \n\"Your English is getting really good.\"\n'T' and 'Y'. Who would have guessed that IM lingo would help us communicate with the dead? \nWe got to the top in the open air. The management pays a ton to keep the observation deck air conditioned during operating hours so it feels icy. But once the clock strikes 10 pm, the normal climate resumes. That being said, it was pretty chilly for this time of year. \nAnd suddenly, guilt. I saw it coming like a bee sting, but it stung like a needle. \n\"Ohanzee,\"I began. \"I don't know what you want from this, but I don't know if I can give you what you want.\"\nSilence. \n\"You're really nice and charming. Based on the drawings I've done of you, you're really handsome. But I can't date you.\"\nHe poked my tattoo. 'Y' '?' .\n\"I don't know. This isn't enough for me. I want to be able to touch you and talk to you. You know?\"\nHe was silent for a minute. Then he touched my tattoo. 'K', 'I'. 'L', 'L', '?'. \n\"If I knew that it would work, I would do it. There's a lot of theories out there, but we just don't know. I'm sorry.\"\nHe sat for a minute. I stood up to leave, but he grabbed my arm tighter than I'd ever felt a spirit touch. \n\"Ohanzee, that hurts!\"I protested. \nHe pulled my across the gravel to the fence of the observation deck and pushed with full force. I didn't have a chance. I didn't scream. Only the faint 'no.' came out of my mouth. My hand reached for the fence, but I was too far out. \nMy silent descent was interrupted by a falcon's screech, as a little hand reached for my hand. \n\"Dowanhowee?\"\nAnother falcon's screech sounded as I glided gently to the ground, almost unharmed. \nI laid sprawled out, my heart crashing through my ribcage. \"Thank you, Dowanhowee.\"\nI held her ether in my arms. She held on tight, but her misty cheeks slipped away into the darkness. \n\"Dowanhowee? Dowanhowee!\"\nGone. \nI never went back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every time someone is hurt by something mentally, a wound appears on their skin physically." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've been in the family business for years now. I dropped out of high school to join up. My dad taught me to draw when I was little, and I guess I just had a knack for it. \nI first got my hands on a tattoo gun when I was five. Gave my first touch-up job at age nine. Now, I own my own business. \nEverbody knows about the typefaces, but it's my job to recognize patterns. Usually, it has to do with the font you read most. There's a lot of Times New Roman and Georgia stamps out there. Once in a while we get someone coming in asking us to cover up a Comic Sans, but I can do 'em all. \nBased on my estimations, there's a lot that goes into it. See, a little insult shows up like a light sunburn, about the size of a dime. The neck is common, the feet are common, and we see a lot more on the stomach than we used to. The way I've got it figured, the burn expands when you think about it. Don't think about it. I tell all my clients that the best policy is to make a joke. If something really cuts to the quick and it's eating at you, take a sleeping pill. You'll feel better in the morning. \nThe more times you hear a phrase that eats at you, the deeper red it gets. It ain't going back. It can scab over, but it's pretty rare. \nThis one week, there was some guy across town trying to open up his own place. I had saved up enough of a nest egg that I could afford to slash prices for awhile. About a month later, the same guy came into my place to get my establishment's name covered up from his forearm. Makes no difference to me. I got some free advertising out of it. \nWhen I was a kid, our mothers used to tell us that mean words can kill, so you should always be nice. There may have been a little singsong in there somewhere. \nI got invited to do an expo in San Luca at some dermatology convention. It paid well so I figured what the hell. When I got there, I remember parking next to this guy in a blue lab coat. He had all sorts of dark streaks on him, which usually means you've come in for a lot of coverups. He was a wreck. I ignored him and went on to do my demonstration. I was a hit. I showed them some new inks I was developing that changed color over time, and some needle tricks to blur the edges of letters. I even handed out a few of my name coverup tricks. Some people don't like to just get a splotch over their cursemark, some like to turn them into words. For example, a common one is turning 'hate' into 'hat' and making the 'e' look like a hat. \nI walked out with my equipment case in one hand and an invitation to Vegas in the other. By the time I reached my level of the parking garage, I was stopped by a police officer with the words 'Fuck You' faintly etched on his cheek. I told him that that was my car. After confirming my alibi, he let me get to my car. \nThe lab coated mess was in a much worse state now. His head slumped against the window with a very fresh burn on his cheek that read 'FIRED' in Arial. I'd never seen someone die from one of these before though. Across his neck in a woman's handwriting was the one readable word. 'leaving.'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The reason alien never contacted earth is because humans are incredibly big for other species." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After finishing physics civilizations realizes there is only one way to bridge the gap between worlds, and that is the reduction of genetic material to singular celled organisms, no mechanical or multicellular life form could withstand the emptiness of space for long enough to bridge the divide.\n\nThis method however brought it share of difficulties, intergalactic distances meant that not only would innumerable cells need be sent to reach them all, but also that most would never arrive on viable host worlds.\n\nEarth is one of the rare flukes where the arrival of several alien species actually caused the planet to become viable, sadly the native population will likely cause an extinction level event before ever realizing how close we really are." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up in an alternate universe where you are the ubiquitous person of your gender." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Yes, come in.” I was touched as a child. \n\nI don’t remember his name. I think my head has caged off the action, compartmentalized it in some fog dream, moments of it constantly chipped away, chiseled apathetically and molded within the filter of time. So surreal. It never happened, I can tell people. And they will believe it because they are hiding and terrified and they have the hunger for smiles, in every moment of life until the day they die, smiling in a comfortable bed with the whole world at their side; moms and dads and all resent-less friends and ex lovers smiling, and everything is loving them. And nothing is ever wrong. \n\n“Sit down child.” Purity is my lust. I am an art teacher for the little ones. I teach them to express their powerful growing minds. We have snack time to keep them moving and nap time for inspiration. I let them run around if they must, some need to get the energy pushed from their legs to head. I look at them. \n\n“Can you help me?” He says. There is no one here but us. And we are smiling. \n\nI guide the little one’s hand like a current, floating him deeper along the body of his imagination. He laughs, I do too. I let him sit on my lap. We stroke the paper with reds, painting a sunset. It feels so surreal, like floating. The room gets hot so I take my jacket off.\n\nThere are flashes, but I ignore them. Like clouds passing through in the late afternoon, try not to notice their movements, like everyone else. The child will not have a voice because no one will see it. Everyone will smile\n\nHe isn’t going to remember, like a dream faded at the wake. But I will. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In an alternate history where The Great War of the early 20th Century really was \"The War to End All Wars\", your protagonist becomes aware of the secret conflict that has risen to replace warfare." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The news emitted a low buzz hidden by the loud discussion in the plaza. For weeks, the news had been oddly dismal. More and more reports of veterans disappearing emerged everyday. Much to the contrary of the news, the plaza was loud and euphoric. An abundance of green plants sat throughout the main plaza of Munich. The League of Nations had just released the plans to construct a \"nuclear\"power plant, and the city was set aglow with enthusiasm to win the bid for the power plant. The plaza sat nestled between the austere, marble courthouse and the peace monument. The courthouse had few ornamentations except the colossal wooden doors that imposed on the surrounding landscape. The courthouse was a sullen reminder of a lost age to many. Across from the courthouse was the peace monument. The peace monument glowed with a pale gold, and to many of us, it meant our future.\n\nThe crowd shouted as the oratory reached its climax! From behind, a hand appeared grabbing my mouth. I awoke in utter darkness. I wad probably just awakening from a dream; kidnapping are unheard of in this day and age. The first thing I heard was a voice talking about a terrorist plot and veterans, but it was difficult to hear any details. Then, I heard a make voice utter clearly,\"I suppose you're right this veteran must die to avoid the terrorist use of this \"nuclear bomb.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a world where everyone has a super power, your job is defined by your power. You hate your job." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another morning, late to rise and late for work…. \n\nWhat I wouldn’t give to be one of those speedsters, or even better one of those guys that could manipulate time. Damn they had it good. But no, I was stuck, being me. One hand forcing toast down my throat the other frantically brushing my teeth. \n\nBus to the ‘office’, dazed and gazing from the window, envying the flightful few, wings flapping, or gravity defying feats keeping them aloft. No public transport for them, no boundaries just freedom. \n\nLate in again, the fresh pot of Coffee now cold, and not a drop of heat vision in me to warm it up. Oh well, when you’re as bad at time keeping as I am, you get used it. \n\nNow to work, my least favourite part of the day. \n\n“Morning Clive” the boss says, barely tolerating my tardiness. \n\n“Good morning Sir, big assignment today?” I knew the answer…. \n\n“That’s right Clive, we’re filming the death scene today. Agent Locke, is trapped in a tank of sharks, first he starts to drown, then the sharks eat him alive till he’s only bones. “ \n\nOh god. This was going to be awful. \n\n“Then by the power of robotics he’s made new again as a cyborg. But the factory explodes, and he is decimated. You ready?” \n\n“Ready as I’ll ever be.” \n\nYou see when I was born, my regenerative powers were hailed as nothing short of extraordinary. It was unprecedented, one of the most advanced abilities on record. But when you’re main talents rely on dying and coming back to life, or having a limb chopped off and regrowing it, it doesn’t leave much room for work. \n\n\nAnd even though I might have been the greatest stunt double there ever was – but my god did it hurt.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your tribe of prehistoric humans is enchanted with something a dangerous rival tribe has been wielding: fire. Those that control the flame control power. This is a story of mankind's first war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fire stick warm. Fire stick let us see in dark cave. Fire stick make good food.\n\nBut enemy has fire stick. Enemy can see in dark cave. Enemy has good food. Enemy keep warmth to themselves.\n\nIf enemy do not give fire stick, we take fire stick. Rock Smoother make many sharp stones. Branch Cutter make many sharp sticks. Boar Killer and Leopard Striker will take sticks and stones and go first to enemy. Rest of men will take sticks and follow.\n\nEnemy has fire stick. Enemy is strong. Many men will not come back. But fire stick warm. Fire stick good. \n\nTonight, fire stick will be ours." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Surprise me...." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*[Distant Everyday Memories](http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=2NuuhRrRQZo&list=PL0E0498B5367E627F&index=2)*\n_____________________________\nAs the snow spins down in a beautiful arrangement of grace and delicacy, making incredible decorations upon my hospital's room window, *I am smiling.* The chair beside me lay empty, but I know that, wherever you are, *you are happy*. If you are smiling; if the pit of your heart is warm with energy, then I know that my heart is warm, as well. With my final words, I wish to relay one thing. \n\nWhen you remember me, even if for a slight moment in your mind you remember me - *smile*. Do not remember me for my ailments, do not remember me for my wrong-doings, do not remember me for my mistakes. *Remember me for the times I made you smile.* With every strand of my body, my soul belongs to you and there is no other person in this world that I would rather give it to. \n\n*Remember that I love you.* \n\n*Sincerely, \nA long lost friend.*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Give me a sci-fi prompt to help me beat some writer's block!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It is possible to download your entire brain structure into a robot that has sensors to feel heat, pain, hunger etc. and looks just like you.\nThe robot will wake up having all of your memories, emotions, beliefs etc. and will go on about it's artificial life truly believing it's you.\n\nOne day you find out that you are one of these robots, and the original you has been dead for over five years.\n\nYou have no idea whether any of your friends or family know, and you also start to question if anyone else you know is just a robot." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "not really a prompt, but an idea you have in your head currently." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arrows fly faster than horses can run. But this horse, and it's stinking human rider had several days start on the noble daemon M'kaentheor. \n\nAn imp of Asmodeus had bargained with him to bring the man to rest, apparently he was a messenger bringing word of the machinations of an archduke of hell's deeds in a city in the south to a city in the north. A city famed for its daemon hunters. Filth, arrogant filth, you can't hunt daemons, there is no prize for hunting us. We are forever, we are constant, immortal, unbending. Seal us for eternity and we'll watch the aeons pass by as mortal civilisation crumble and burn, and after eternity passes we'll dance on the corpses of our pathetic 'hunters'. We are the true hunters, we delight in the game, and M'kaentheor was one of our finest.\n\nThe bargain pact afforded him not only the soul of the prey, but licence to roam the overworld after the deed was done and collect ten more souls for his keeping. A purse that plentiful can't be doled out by a simple imp, the request had come from far above, perhaps even Asmodeus himself, cleaning up after the archduke's sloppy preparations.\n\nI am Drentotle, and I watch over M'kaentheor. I record his hunts, I whisper his surroundings to him, I spread word of his deeds. I am the perfect companion to the lone hunter, safe in the aether, but by his side in spirit at all times. And this day was no different.\n\nHe padded along the snow capped ridge, a valley sprawling out below him, littered with tall trees. He could smell the prey, it was a foulness, unmissable to his senses. They'd been travelling tirelessly, the sweat from the horse and the rider was profuse. \n\nAs much as I can spread my own senses I could not extend my scrying to the valley below without leaving his side. We indulged that luxury once before and never again, lapse in vigilance costs too much.\n\nThe northern city was barely two hours ride further, and outlying settlements could pop up anywhere, the time to strike was now. Across the centre of the valley a clearing was to be found, with good footing for a horse, and surely enough the hooded rider appeared.\n\nM'kaentheor chuckled lightly, smoke curling from his fanged maw as his lungs sparked up. He intended for the kill to be quick, he would draw on his immense reserves of strength and hellfire for this one. \n\nFlexing his four arms outward and then in front of him he summoned a vast darkwood greatbow, etched with his own writhing runecraft. The bow was bound to him in more ways than one, and as he drew back lines of hellfire seemed to coalesce from every point on his body into a thin black arrow. He raised the bow, and let me guide the finer adjustments, not that it mattered, this arrow couldn't miss even if he fired it at the mountain.\n\nWith a last short pull he let loose. The arrow arced high, almost invisibly and certainly in the blind of the man far below who was now just ahead of M'kaentheor's place on the ridge.\n\nAs it bore down the human turned in his saddle, swiftly drawing a rapier to the sky. He meant to parry! But as I said, this bow, and the arrow it formed, were bound to the great hunter in more ways than one. Not a dozen yards from the prey it burst into glorious fire, as did M'kaentheor on the ridge, and in that instant he became the bolt. You don't parry four hundred pounds of daemon from the sky!\n\nFor such a prescient human the man lasted a fraction of a second. The impact knocking him clear off his horse and the horse falling to the snow. M'kaentheor ripped his flesh from his bones and consumed his soul were he landed. The deed was done.\n\nHours later a hooded rider passed through the northern city's gates. But this one bore no message, it bore only carnage, to the tune of ten souls." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Through massive scientific advancement, humanity has joined the intergalactic community. However, a single scientist discovers that their universe exists inside a computer simulation. The creators of this simulation are not happy with this knowledge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's been eleven years, seven months, six days, and seven hours since Lois Andrade destroyed her career, and she's never been this eager in her life. Just nine more minutes and she's going to have it all back. In front of her is an elaborate apparatus, spewing off clouds of nitrogen vapour as the central sphere speeds up, three huge cables snaking in to the mounting to provide enough current. But the quantum measurement device in front of her is not what's going to give her her life back.\n\nThat honour belongs to an ad she placed in the New York Gazette nearly a year ago. Its words seemed random, nonsensical, but they encoded the cryptographic hash of a carefully composed sentence. And in 9 minutes, at one of the most tightly monitored and controlled laboratories on the planet, someone *else's* experimental results are going to redeem her. The next morning, she'll email her sentence to six prestigious journals. \"Lois Andrade predicts a double magnitude error in the Antarctic Monopole Receiver at 15:07 UGT on December 18, 2104 CE.\"They'll verify the hash, and her breakthrough will make her the most celebrated researcher in the Cluster.\n\nBut right now, Lois isn't thinking about any of this. She's high on physics. In a way, she'll regret everything about her return to glory except the funding. Because right now, she's the only one in the Cluster who can see the universe's secrets. And unlike 12 years ago, *this* time she knows what to anticipate.\n\nBack then, she had been doing preliminary research on quantum computing improvements. She had run a simple experiment, and gotten impossible results, results that broke three fundamental symmetries. It was the most exciting thing she had ever seen. But then she tried to replicate it.\n\nNothing.\n\nAgain, and again, and again.\n\nShe thought there must be something small she was doing wrong, something someone else would be able to fix, by either accident or insight. So she published anyways. And on the strength of her reputation, they tried. Scientists across the planet, across the Arm, had tried every conceivable adjustment on what should have been a relatively simple experiment. And with every failed replication, her career burned downward like a candle. Eventually, accused of fabricating data, she was fired. Disgraced. Her career was over.\n\nShe **knew** those results were real. She just couldn't get back to them.\n\nFive years later she had discovered why. She was reading an obscure paper about sources of experimental error, specifically an unresolved source of error in the long-running Antarctic Monopole Receiver, and for the first time she saw the experimental log itself.\n\nDouble-take.\n\nJaw drop.\n\nFrantic scrabbling to look it up in her notes.\n\nThe receiver had erred by almost two orders of magnitude at the exact moment she had received her own anomalous result. But unlike her, they hadn't published. And by this point in her research, she remembered why--they had experienced an error like this before. Eleven years, seven months, six days, and seven hours before. It was slim, but it was all she had. She had spent six years working out new underlying math that suggested the phenomenon was periodic. She published her hash, spent months scrounging funds and equipment from anyone who would listen to her. And in seven minutes, it was going to be enough. The new data from her measurement apparatus was so close she could almost taste it. It was going to revolutionise her. It was going to revolutionise *everything*.\n\nLois Andrade had no idea. The clock counted down. Five minutes remaining. Two minutes remaining. 30 seconds remaining to the universe as the Cluster knows it.\n\n10......9......8......7......6......5......4......3......2......1......" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A long time chef discovers a soup so delicious it grants immortality. A moral dilemma about whether or not to share his creation with the world ensues." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Watch out mister!\"Three words that would precede one of the biggest realizations of my life. \n\nIt's true, I poured my heart and soul into that soup. Years of travel, years of flavors, years of pots and pans and burnt hands went into that soup, but I could never have imagined something so delicious could be something so powerful. \n\nI woke up as many people like me do, in the morgue. Only people like me were usually in the movies. \n\nI apologized to the mortician, who I had scared shitless. It was understandable though. After all, men in their eighties don't usually survive being hit by a bus. \n\nOnce the man calmed down he explained that I did seem unusually devoid of damage for someone who had been dragged eight feet under a bus. \n\nI begged him to destroy my medical records. I think he ultimately agreed because I reminded him of his grandfather. It happens a lot more than you'd think. \n\nI immediately suspected the soup, there was no other alternative. No other food had ever made me feel so... young. And I've been drinking a morning espresso for years. \n\nBut how far did the soup go? Was it a one time thing? Drink the soup, survive an accident? Or had I just avoided something I had begun to make peace with the moment I slaughtered my first rabbit for supper back when I was a boy. \n\nI didn't know what to hope for, eternity or a peaceful death. \n\nWhen I got home I pulled the leftovers of the soup from the fridge and spent many minutes staring at them. It was only natural to test the extent of the soup. I'll spare the gory details, but let's say that by dawn I knew I couldn't die. \n\nI wept for my wife as the sun rose. If only I had been a better chef sooner, perhaps she would have enjoyed that sunrise with me. \n\nLady was an obvious choice as the first person to share my soup with. At least she always felt like a person to me. Lady, short for Ladle, was our chocolate lab. My wife and I used to joke when she was a puppy that she would out live us and that it was foolish of us to adopt her. By the time I finished my first batch of what I would come to call the Soup of Life, she looked as old as I felt when I woke achy in the morning. \n\nI've never seen her eat anything so fast. The change was dramatic and instantaneous. Her eyes cleared and her tired ears perked up. It was the second time that day I cried. \n\nThat was the only time I decided to share my soup. As a man that wanted to make the perfect soup to share with the world it pained me deeply to burn the recipe. I'll admit that the act was mostly symbolic because that recipe is burned into my soul, as unforgettable as knowing how to breath.\n\nI've had many sleepless nights. It felt right not to share the secret of immortality. How could I ever bare the burden of the consequences such an act would incur? But as I watched the news the *what ifs* kept nagging me. What if all these people didn't have to die? What if holocausts were impossible? What if traffic accident fatalities dropped to zero?\n\nBut there was Lady, her head on my lap, reminding me that the only organism I knew I could trust immortality to wasn't even human. That there simply wasn't space enough on this planet to free humans from their only sure fate.\n\nTimes change, people come and go, and I've come to be resolute in my decision. \n\nThere's one thing though that always makes me laugh. The difference between the batch of soup before the Soup of Life, and the Soup of Life, was bacon." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Explain to me, in eloquent, poetic language, how bitches aint shit but hoes and tricks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My dear son,\n\nAs I write this letter, you slumber peacefully in your bassinet beside my desk. I know not what these next eighteen years will bring our family, but I know there are certain pieces of information crucial to every young man's upbringing. I am not a young or healthy man, even now, so I shall transcribe the gist of the most important lesson post haste. \n\nFirst and foremost, beware the wiliness of the fairer sex. Ladies, young and old, fair and foul, all exhibit a command over their more feminine attributes. The best tool in a woman's arsenal is her body. The modern woman embraces promiscuity as a means to most ends, and will not hesitate to ensnare an innocent young man in her womanly flower. The strongest weapon in her armory is her mind. I've watched many a man lose his way in the twists and turns of a woman's conversation only to find himself agreeing to all sorts of egregious acts. \n\nWomen, my son, are unequivocally salacious and duplicitous. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A child is taken from its parents and trained as an assassin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you miss them?\"\n\nJamie looked over at Kay. Her fatigues were dirty, three days of mud and blood caked across them. The moonless sky meant he could only make out the barest outline of her face as she lay looking up.\n\n\"Sometimes.\"\n\nThe horizon blossomed a crimson red as artillery fire took another chunk out of the enemy stronghold.\n\n\"Do you think they miss us?\"\n\n---\n\n\"Please.\"\n\nThe man begged. Jamie didn't understand why. Why didn't he fight? Or run? He just... knelt. Jame had used live rounds before, but this was different. Years of military indoc meant the gun felt like a natural extension of himself.\n\n\"Cadet zero-twelve, you have your orders.\"\n\nHe pulled the trigger and the man didn't beg anymore.\n\n---\n\n\"You are here because you have been identified as the best and the brightest, the fastest and strongest amongst your peers. The United Earth Government has legally expropriated you from your families. You will not see them again.\n\n\"You will form an elite fighting unit and you and your parents sacrifice will ensure the survival of the human race.\"\n\n---\n\n\"I love you baby.\"\n\nHis mother was crying. Jamie didn't know why, but it made him want to cry as well. His father was shouting nasty words, two of the big soldiers holding him against the floor. Jamie clutched at his mothers hand as another man tried to drag him away.\n\n\"I'll always love you baby.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Damage control report:... Multiple individuals have detected the anomaly your entrance to this time/world/dimension has created. Given the circumstances, you are granted full authority to prevent the spread of information from these individuals using all resources currently available...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The phosphorus green text glowed on the laptop screen in the back of the room. The computer she had been given was old enough that it wouldn't be noticed by the inhabitants of this strange planet yet hid inside it the intricacies that modern technology brought to her other worldly society. An electronic \"beep\"sounded out in the background as the laptop tried to pique her interest and get some form of attention to the most important issue at hand.\n\nShe stood by the window watching the life of this planet whizz around before her in the dark of the night. She tore herself away from the window to look at the laptop. There was one thing on the screen now.\n\n> You have mail.\n\nShe read the mail carefully making sure that she had absorbed each and every detail that the words presented her with.\n\n> **Damage control report:**\n> \n> Multiple individuals have detected the anomaly your entrance to this \n> time/world/dimension has created. Given the circumstances, you are\n> granted full authority to prevent the spread of information from these\n> individuals using all resources currently available...\n> \n> MESSAGE END.\n\nShe didn't want to use the power they had put across by saying \"all resources\"but she knew she had to. It was against her moral code of ethics but nobody cared about her feelings after all, she was just another cog in the machine.\n\nShe typed into her PC:\n\n> KILL 03232, 00891, 03145\n\nShe knew that her race had implanted each and every one of these beings with a chip to kill them on demand. The issue was sorted and it was, as always, her that took the burden of killing another living thing. She returned to the window and looked out knowing silently that she had been responsible for three deaths that night. A tear dripped down her eye.\n\n\n**EDIT:** Grammar." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Turn a classic literary piece into a new dark thriller. But there is an additional challenge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As dawn broke Thursday morning, I started preparing for my latest assignment. Blake Xavier, my boss, had told me I'd get my instructions just before I was due to leave, but I still had thirty more minutes. Cookies, muffins, brownies, I'd prepared them all the evening before. Done all the dirty work myself, I'm proud to add - each one with enough poison to kill a horse. Excessive, I know, but I wanted to ensure that I succeeded. Failure was not an option here, so I packed my basket full. \n\n\nGrabbing my cloak I threw it on, but I left the hood to lay against my back, the whole ensemble such a brilliant shade of red. Hurrying, I grabbed the basket and waited by the phone. It rang a moment later. \"Just head down towards the woods and take the first trail, you'll know it when you see it.\" \n\n\n\"Katarina, you have to do this,\"I whispered to myself. Like it or not, the intended victim was someone I knew well. My grandmother, though she was old anyway was still family. Nevertheless, money is still money, so I started to walk. Old though the trail was, it was still easy to find and I only had to walk for a half hour before I reached the cottage. \n\n\nPausing to catch my breath, I debated whether or not I should follow through, but I did need the money. Quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on the door. Rather than wait for my grandmother to come and open it herself, I let myself in. \n\n\nShe smiled as she saw me, and I ran to give her a hug, knowing it would be the last time. \"Tea?\"she asked, I nodded in affirmation. Unpacking the basket, I made small talk asking about her cats, apparently there'd been wolves about. \n\n\nVery soon thereafter the tea was made, and when I handed my grandmother the plate she chose a biscuit eagerly. Within moments I knew the poison was taking effect, her eyes widened but I couldn't bear to watch anymore. \"Xavier, this better be worth it,\"I whispered to myself, leaving the cottage to walk home, I'd planned on retiring after this last job. \n\n\n\"You get back here right now!\"screamed the woodsman running after me, axe in hand - shit, I'd forgotten he comes to help my grandma on Thursdays. Zigzagging through the bushes I knew my adventure had not ended, rather, it had only just begun. \n\n(edit: formatting)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Describe a Noodle Incident." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All religions start with a lie. At least, ours did. We tried to tell them that it wasn't the way they thought it was, their God wasn't who he thought he was. They ignored us, believing us to be the prophets of their Lord and Savior. Then He turned on us, forcing us to truly become what His worshippers said we were. He also demanded our silence on His true origins. Years later, our lies had become sacred texts and our falsehoods gave Him power over others. He did eventually release us from our enforced silence, but by then it was too late. After all, who would believe that the Flying Spaghetti Monster really did start as someone's leftovers in a nuclear power plant?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An atheist who completely rejects the supernatural, one day realizes he/she has super-powers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whenever David Bowie's song Heroes comes on, something is happening near me that needs my help.\n\nMy adrenal glands pump stress hormones, my organs swell, my vision blurs, a compulsion overtakes me. \n\nIf I fail or refuse to act, debilitating pain overtakes me and I sweat toxins for at least a week. The guilt lingers afterwards.\n\nI have to act while the song still plays. I prefer the six minute version.\n\nIt doesn't work if I intentionally play the song. Three minute radio edits, supermarket shuffle, people on the street, even frustratingly a short ringtone of the opening bars count.\n\nI never know when it will strike. It has never proven false. I have performed so many heimlechs, cpr'd thousands, pulled children from traffic, stopped domestic violence, put out fires, caught babies, saved animals, been the first responder to countless car accidents. I now keep burner phones for calling 911.\n\nLogically, this made no sense. At first I tried to refuse. I saw people suffer and suffered myself. I soon discovered the melody became louder in my head the closer to where I needed to be. I started calling it my bowie-sense.\n\nI thought helping people might be as close as I could get to a calling. I washed out of firefighting and EMT training programs because I never knew when Bowie would tie up a few hours of my afternoon. \nGained lots of useful knowledge so now I pick up what I can where I can.\n\nOnce David Bowie had a concert nearby. A radio station called to tell me I won private meet and greet tickets, free limo ride to and from the venue included. I never entered any contest.\n\nI found the actual man warm and affable. He lacked a halo or aura. Shaking his hand caused no reaction in me. The setlist didnt include Heroes so I wouldnt have to test my powers in a live environment. He seemed confused about my relief. I let it all flood out of me, a decade old secret between myself and a forty year old recording of his voice.\n\nBowie nodded kindly, embraced me, whispered the truth in my ear, then unzipped his man suit and [fourty squirrels](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ezd2x/wp_you_happen_to_stumble_upon_an_ancient/ck4gu4t?context=3) scurried out a fire exit.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man or woman has a terrible nightmare, in which they are told they have been given 24 hours left to live, then they wake up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some letters came through the slot at some point. I didn't hear them falling through, they were just there. I flicked through them, judging their contents. Bill, bill, spam, spam, bill...\n\nAnd a plain white envelope. White, apart from my initials printed in block capitals. Something about it is just...off. No stamp. No Address. Nothing apart from those initials.\n\nI frown at the envelope in confusion, and turn it over to open it, but one edge has already been opened. odd. I don't remember doing that. Inside is a single sheet of white paper, folded into perfectly equal thirds. As I open it I realise it's a letter.\n\n*Dear Mr Allan Ford,* it begins.\n\n*\"It is with our deepest condolences that we inform you that your contract has drawn to a close. The termination of this agreement is unfortunate, but a necessary process.*\n\n*It has to be said, however, that you fulfilled the conditions of your contract to the fullest extent possible, and did not breach any of them. You also reached the landmark of ten thousand days before termination. For this we are pleased to award you the silver medal.*\n\n*In 24 hours the contract will be formally ended, and all contact will cease.*\n\n*Thank you for your co-operation and loyalty.*\n\n*Yours Sincerely,*\n\n*THE MANAGEMENT.\"*\n\nContract? What contract?\n\nTen thousand days?\n\nI tried to re-read the letter, but the words blurred and slid off the page. They fell in slow motion, tumbling gracelessly downwards until they shattered on the ground below.\n\nEach time I moved my movements became more sluggish, until I fell upwards through treacle and found myself lying in my bed.\n\n*What a crazy dream.*\n\nI climbed out of bed to get myself a drink, and felt a small weight around my neck.\n \nThere, on a silver chain, was a small medal. A silver disk with a silver arrow strung diagonally across it. On the arrow, beautifully engraved, was the number 10,000.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A modern-day man wakes up on the Titanic several hours before it's due to crash." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Captain, please, you have to believe, me, this ship is going to sink tonight! At least slow it down, post more men on iceberg watch!\"\n\n\"Don't be preposterous!\"the captain scoffed. \"Exactly where do you think you are? Now get *off* my bridge.\"\n\n'Whatever, you'll go down with her anyway,' you think as you pace down the first-class deck. There was simply no convincing anyone, as if the tampering with fate itself was impossible. \n\nIt wasn't all bad though. Next was that diamond bitch. \n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "On June 15, 1989, a woman in Port St. Joe, Florida pulled off Route 98 into the parking lot of a Junior Food Store. She found this photo lying face down on the asphalt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stared at the atrocity, her breathing growing faint and rapid as she dizzily tried to stay standing. No. No, no, no, no, no. Bile reached the back of her throat and after a moment of trying to stop the tide, she let her gaze break the stare of the children and vomit. \n\nHow did they know? How did someone get that picture? Glancing fearfully around her, she straightened up and tucked the picture into her jacket pocket. Clearing her expression, she drove home— nothing was wrong. Nothing at all. \n\nHer husband waved at her as she entered the driveway, and she smiled back at him; after negotiating their way into the house (always a chore with the multiple overnight bags she usually had to take to conferences) she cleared her throat. \n\n\"Honey?\"she asked sweetly, dragging the picture out of her coat, and placing the garment neatly over the back of the couch. \n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Why did you take a picture of those children?\"\n\nAnd before he had enough time to react, to even widen his eyes in recognition, he was bleeding out from his throat. \n\n\"We don't want to get caught, after all, now do we?\"she asked rhetorically, giving the still twitching body a few kicks. Great, now she needed to scrub the floors. To think, she was so depressed when she first knew he was planning on turning himself in. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Main character walking into the wrong bathroom, what happens next?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Going to the bathroom is something that most people take for granted. If you're a girl, you go into the ladies room with your friends and fix your makeup. If you're a guy, you go into the men's room and take a leak at the urinal. But if you're a girl trapped inside a man's body, it's not that simple.\n\nOn April 6, 1999, my mother gave birth to a little boy named Gabriel. I never wanted to do things that the other little boys were doing. My father was always telling me to 'man up' and 'stop acting like a girl,' but something always felt off. Fast forward a few years, and I came out as Olivia to my parents. My father didn't take it very well, and he cringed the first time I wore a dress, but I learned to accept that I couldn't control how he felt. I was a girl, and I didn't want to hide it anymore. For the first time, I was living authentically, at least with my family. School, however, was a different story.\n\nAt age 14, I started preparing to discretely come out to everyone. Up to this point, everyone I met considered me a boy. I wasn't welcome in the girl's restroom, and I felt extremely uncomfortable in the boy's bathroom. I would've given anything to feel welcome in a bathroom, and the hormone replacement therapy was the first step to change that. I had a detailed plan for each stage of my transition, and the biggest leap was going to happen this summer. I was legally going to change my name to Olivia and enroll in high school as a girl. I would finally be able to dress like a girl at school. I was ready to reach out and make friends as myself, Olivia.\n\nI arrived at school on the first day with a stomach full of anticipation. My floral dress danced around my shaved legs as I walked into the foreboding building. I nervously said hi to anyone that looked my way, and they nodded kindly and mumbled a \"hey\"as they walked quickly through the halls. I approached the bathrooms. Now was the moment of truth, the final test. I closed my eyes as my heart rate increased, and took a deep breath. I stepped into the girl's bathroom just as a toilet flushed. A kind-looking girl stepped out of a bathroom stall and approached the sink.\n\nI took another deep breath and said, \"Hi, I'm Olivia.\"\n\nThe girl looked around to see who I was talking to, and after seeing no one else nearby, answered, \"Hi, Olivia. I'm Katie. It's nice to meet you.\"\n\nI let out a nervous laugh, and then turned my attention to the mirror. I fixed my hair, put on a big grin, and headed to class." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a high-school of soon to be vampires, the stoner friend is a hunter in disguise." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Holy shit this bud is dank!\"Todd coughed as he exhaled another massive hit from the bong, a two-foot monstrosity of red, yellow, and green glass.\n\n\"Yeah, just picked it up yesterday, they said it was called 'slayer.'\"Weston tried to conceal his fear beneath his THC-soaked non-chalance, a disguise that had become a persona after two years of hiding. They had almost caught him the first time he killed one, he couldn't risk it again. A hopeless pot dealer seemed like a pretty innocent route. He fingered the silver scalpel that he'd stashed between the couch cushions. He'd have to strike soon. A drop of sweat fell from his chin onto his jeans.\n\nHe'd seen Todd kill only a few nights ago, but couldn't be sure if he'd been seen. The face on the little girl as Todd ripped at her throat was burned into his memory. He didn't want to believe it at first, Todd was one of his best friends. They went to preschool together. He must have been turned recently. At first Todd had just missed school. He said he was sick. After a week it was obvious though, he hadn't been outside during the day at all, and when they'd out at night he'd always excuse himself to go home early, but he'd have a weird look in his eyes, something between being hungry and horny. The last time, Weston had followed him, that's when he'd killed the girl.\n\nWeston knew that he'd soon try to turn his friends, or worse. \"Hey man, wanna see something cool?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"I hid it in the tool shed, come check it out.\"\n\nTodd got up and Weston grabbed the scalpel, holding it in his hand, delicately hiding it behind his wrist. Outside the air was freezing, but Todd wasn't wearing a jacket, and he was skinny. That was another common sign.\n\n\"Right over here.\"\n\nTodd stood there, completely still, not even breathing. He had that look in his eye.\n\n\"I saw you last night,\"he said stiffly, his fangs glinted in the moonlight. \"I know you saw what I did. \n\nWeston felt his hairs stand up. 'Now' he thought.\n\nToo late, Todd grabbed his throat and lifted him up. He gripped the scalpel and strabbed at the monster's wrist. Todd shrieked and dropped him, smoke rose from the wound. Weston pulled the scalpel out and drove it down hard into Todd's face. It landed in his eye and went deep." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Ten minutes after you wake up, you suffer a severe freak heart attack in your home, totally alone. As the psychoactive chemicals begin to move through your brain in preparation for death, you begin to have your final dream." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My mother is standing over me. I cannot speak. She is crying, and her mouth makes no noise. She is holding the twins. I have never seen them before. They are swaddled above me, gazing dumbly down to me. They can see the tightness in my chest. \n\nI know they died 26 years ago, eight hours after the delivery, but their cheeks are pink and their light hairs twist up into a curl on each head.\n\nTwo girls run through the kitchen door, bouncing a soccer ball over me. My chest spasms and the tightness begins to snap. They are laughing and their shinguards match. \"Johnny is there!\"they say, in unison. They jump together, feet pounding the slick white floor.\n\n\"Brother Johnny, come play.\"\n\nI stand up and shuffle towards the kitchen table. My whole body is my chest, tight, I cannot breath, but I can walk. I sit at the table. I do not know where they went. The room is silent in the deafening rushing of my ears. \n\nIt is night now. We sit. I can feel the braces on my teeth. She pours something clear from a water bottle into a plastic cup and passes it my way. We are drinking, whispering a floor beneath our parents' room. The window is open to the cicadas and muggy August air. My sisters' eyes crackle against their freckled faces. \n\n\"Outside. I have a smoke.\"\n\nOutside, the hills of Ireland rise and roll into the distance, green and yellow. I have been here before. She leans against a stone wall, almost over into the rushing creek below, a river of waterfalls and clumps of grass that rise like mushrooms, smoke trailing from her hand. I take it and put it to my mouth, drawing hard. There is nothing but air, and she is taking my picture.\n\n\"Say cheese.\"\n\nThe camera clicks and whirs as the air spins around us. My shirt is wet against my chest. She smiles. She smiles. We walk, from each mound of grass to the next. A deep dark green lake is here, and a dog, one eye brown, the other half blue, straight into me, stopping, half stanced. It scatters away through the hills, over the hills, the three hills, the four hills, the five hills that rise brown over our lake. \n\nMy sisters laugh beneath the waterfall, the roar of water humming. We step across the bog, the green grass waving back and forth, back and forth, humming, low, a low, rumbling hum that lifts us from the ground, each step a bound across lakes and rocks. We are where we climb to the ridge, following the trickling hum of water over smooth black rock. Our hands are clamped as we follow the waterfall, up and up and up. The humming grows. The grass, the water, the five hills, the dogs, the smoke, the rising bog, the linoleum, we are humming. \n\n\"My sisters, I love you, did you know? Did you know I loved you?\"\n\nI cannot speak.\n\nYou are too young to die, my mother says. You are too young to die." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a German Kriegsmarine commander of the southern landing division during the invasion of the US through Mexico." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The order were clear, Hitler himself wanted the US to fall. Mexico failed to speak to Germany about allowing military to pass through their lands and Canada had started to crumble from Commander Sanger's campaign. The ex-spanish lands were in sight, the time was about nigh. The battleships of the Armada Todesengle opened fire on the mainland. The MeerJäger fired its massive 120cm guns while the landing crafts loaded the Landsers who would overwhelm the Mexican Republican Guard troops guarding the city of Veracruz." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story from a first person point of view without using the words 'I' and 'My'" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blink. Blink again. Sniff the air. It smells... sweet. Sickeningly sweet. Never smelled air like that before. Vision starts to clear. Look around. Where... is this place? Who are these people? The strange figures approached grimly, their faces covered.\n\n\"Another one.\"\n\nTheir voices seemed strange. Aberrant. Unsettling. Words were all there, but they were distorted.\n\n\"Put him with the others.\"\n\nThose voices. It was as if the syllables came unnaturally to these beings, as if their mouths weren't quite designed for human speech. Looking over, their faces were covered, giving no clue to their alien locution.\n\nLook from face to face. Still dazed. Still confused. Then blackness comes back again..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A photographer discovers that all the people he photographed in the past die one by one." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For someone like me, death is normal. For someone like me, seeing people dying is daily. We have become friends, him and I but to think the grim reaper followed me to my peaceful times, away from the battlefield is abnormal.\n\n\"Man, I was this close to getting an interview with her! Do you hate me oh lord?!\"\nMy co-worker, Steve, comically screamed to ease the tension. \n\n\"What is up with you?\"I asked, with suspension of the impending truth.\n\n\"She died! That slut!\"Pointing at his computer screen with the a picture of one of my clients. I forget their names. I am only in it for the money.\n\n\"Maybe you should respect the dead a bit more, huh, ever thought about that? Anyway, how did she die?\"I already knew the effects of my camera by now. I am only putting up an act because I am this close to throwing up.\n\n\"Yeah, sorry about that, Dan, but when the dead promise an interview, I think they should keep their part of the deal. And heart attack and they think it is an OD.\"\n\nThat seals it. This old camera kills anyone with the closest thing to their hearts, their wildest desires! \n\nIt killed the Africans after their food shortage and when they got tons of charity food fueled by my heart touching pictures, their system went into shock and they died.\n\nIt killed all those poor Iraqis after they died martyrs for their homeland after I took pictures of the Killers of ISIS Force. Iraq is in ruin.\n\nIt killed many celebrities after I came back from my work trips in distressed nations. It only took me a year to link all that shit this camera has done but I will not allow it any longer. \n\nI quickly got off work and hid this camera, lest it falls in the wrong hands, in my grandfather’s house. I wish I can destroy it but this thing took bullets in Iraq and saved my life. Or maybe it saved its life?\n\nYou see, my grandfather’s house....it is my house now and I plan on to pass it to my kids but never the attic. Because the camera stays there forever.\n\n\"Grandpa come on! Let us go with everyone outside!\"\n\n\n\"Alright little one but let us remove all the dirt from your shorts!\"I said to my grandson, Rob.\n\n\n\"Rob did you get him?\"my wife yelled\n\n\n\"Yes, grandpa is here!\"\n\n\"The little one is so excited. What are you all doing?\"I asked\n\n\n\"Well, we thought we need to take a picture because our son and grandson will inherit the house and we do not have many years so why not take a picture now? While the whole family is around?\"My wife said\n\n\"Well, I guess you are right. Do I like good without my glasses, darling?\"I asked here because these old eyes do not work anymore.\n\n\"Yes, you look good now smile for the camera, everyone!\"\n\nI did not need my glasses to know that camera. Rob has been playing in the old attic." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story starting with \"What does it mean to be human?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What does it mean to be human?\"\n\nI ask her, a doughy little psychiatrist in the Veteran's Hospital. She's blonde, and she has a pleasent face, but she's too damn fat. I can't fucking stand fat people. I hate them so much, just looking at them makes me angry. But lots of things make me angry. Am I angry because she's fat, or am I angry because I look for reasons to be angry?\n\nShe looks like my mother's ex husband's fat girlfriend. Kimmy. If you say it enough times, it starts to sound like a noise a pig would make. That's fitting. Kimmy's a real fucking farm animal and nothing fits her. Slob too. Last week at the kid's baseball game she dribbled chilly cheese dog all down the front of the tent she was wearing. How did she get so fat, if none of that food makes it to her mouth?!\n\n\"Well, Mr. Thompkins, is that what you prefer to be called? I know some of the guys that come in have a pretty strong aversion to their last name's these days, it makes them feel like they're still *in it*, so to speak, and like the things I say are orders. I can call you whatever you like.\"\n\n\"Mark is fine, please.\"I mumbled. She was right, and I don't like it when she's right. It makes me feel stupid. That she understands the things happening in my head better than I do. That she knows she should ask me certain questions at certain times because certain things have certain chances to make me lose my fucking mind.\n\n\"Alright, Mark it is. As I was saying, today, right now, for you, unfortunately *this* is what it means to be human.\"\n\n She tapped a thick stack of papers on her desk. The written summary of several sessions of counseling. \n\n\"Right now, being human means waking up, unsure of where you're at, not knowing if the sounds you hear are here or there, too many drinks at night in the morning at work. This is what being human means for you. I know you may be feeling a little \"crazy\", or \"out of it\", but you need to remember that you're not. You're normal, and the things you are experiencing now are very normal responses to the things you experienced then. I don't mean to trivialize your story, but we've been studying this for a few years now, and your responses are well within what we call the \"text book\"range. What that means, is that as far as your stress response to what you went through, you are, statistically, almost as normal as you ever could be.\"\n\n\"And that's good?\"\n\n\"It's not good or bad Mark. It's just a fact, hopefully one you can remember and help keep yourself grounded with. Statistically, of every one thousand members studied, 497 of them experience your same symptoms. You're not alone, you're not a freak, most importantly, Mark, You. Are not. Crazy.\"\n\nShe stopped to enunciate her last sentence very strongly. Sounds like that's a sticking point for alot of guys then.\n\nIt doesn't bother me. This feeling of being crazy. I've always felt crazy. All my friends were flying to Vegas for a four day, and I was out running miles in the rain because I wanted to make buck sergeant next month. I was crazy then, it makes sense to feel crazy now.\n\n\"Okay. I'll remember that.\"I jokingly mimed pulling out a note book and pen and scribbling myself a quick note.\n\n\"Nooot crayzee\"I said, as I scrawled the imaginary words across the imaginary page.\n\n\"I'll tape it to my mirror or something.\"\n\nShe laughed, a fake laugh, meant to put me at ease.\n\n\"That's very funny Mark, but I'm serious. If you need to talk in between visits, our twenty four hour line is always open and staffed by a variety of people, so you have your choice of who you speak to.\"\n\n\"Thank you. See you next month.\"\n\n-----\n\nI didn't really know where to go at the end there." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A future or alternate universe where the rich invest stocks in promising children for a return of personal wealth when that child graduates and becomes successful." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Line up on the edge of the field, face straight ahead. The investors will be here shortly.\"\n\nAll the children stood in a line, the girls in their beautiful dresses, the boys in suits that made them look like little professionals. Ben scratched at his neck. His mom had let him borrow his older brother's suit, but it was itchy and smelled. The tie was too long and had a stain on it. Ben tried to stand up straight. \n\n\"Don't slouch!\", they would say in school, \"you'll never get an investment with posture like that\". The metal pin that held up his card pricked his chest uncomfortably. It read, \"Boy, 12, Art\". He shifted in his shoes, the leather squeaking against the silence. He sneaked a look at the boy to his left. His card read, \"Boy, 11, thermonuclear physics\". Ben supposed that even thermonuclear physicists liked art. \n\n\"Everyone needs art\"his mom said that morning, \"it makes all the other stuff worthwhile\". He hoped she was right. At the end of the room a door opened. Everyone tightened, shifting their weight and displaying a proud smile. Ben felt like his cheeks were plastic, that if he smiled hard enough they would forever solidify into an appealing mask. \n\nAt the end of the line a group of black suits were strolling along the line, stopping at each child to speak with them for a few moments before the announcer would start the bidding. Finally they reached him. Each face stared at him blankly while his teacher spoke about his accomplishments. \n\n\"Ben is a very accomplished artist. His pieces have garnered him multiple awards, and he hopes to one day use his art to change the world.\"Ms. Taylor, his class's broker, didn't even like his art, she just got a cut of the profits. \n\nThe men looked at him sternly. Ben knew the art economy was down; just 2.98% of all applicants received sponsorship, and of those that were invested in, a mere .23% yielded a net profit. \n\n----\nI'm stuck here. Maybe I'll come back, maybe not. I can't really think of how to end it or introduce any excitement.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your take on what Toph Beifong is doing on her search of enlightment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Toph always struck me as a character that was a paradox. She would always act tough in front of others, like she was made of solid rock. But we all know she's just a woman on the inside, one with desires and feelings. I think she went to search of enlightenment because she felt as if there was an emotional void within her, that her whole life was spent building up this defensive wall and she no longer wanted that kind of burden anymore. I think she went on a journey to kind of soften up herself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a Post Apocalyptic World, Survivors from all over the world make a trek to the Black Rock Desert once a year for the annual Burning Man Celebration, except now it acts like a mountain man Rendezvous selling gear and equipment but still with the craziness and wackiness of burning man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When thinking about an apocalyptic world I always thought of raiders and bandits and whatnot. But somehow we were able to salvage our humanity, our faith and love of life. Not saying there was not any bad apples, but not as many as you'd think. Most kept there minds intact.\nIt's not like what it use to be, no power, only back-up generators that can last a couple of hours each day, we have a few vehicles still running and food is passable since most people enjoy the sport of hunting and gathering.\nThings are still pretty much the same, but different. Every once a year we pick our spirits up and forget about what we once had, and celebrate life at burning man, it helps to an extent. Should be good this year, that's if I can make the hike." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It's 1985 and the Nazi's return to the world stage revealing that they were secretly controlling the entire continent of South America and Mexico and for 40 years and launch an invasion of the southern United States. What is your reaction?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We both looked dumbfolded at the tv, still shocked by the realization. It had sounded like an elaborate April Fool's, except running half a year late, and on all three damn channels. Uncle Dave had called mom to turn on the tv, that it was the end of times. It wasn't the first time he claimed anything like that, but mom had really been upset, probably by his newfound sincerity. Me, my two younger sisters and my douche of a brother had sat in silence in front of the tv for almost ten whole seconds staring at the unintelligible ramblings of an black and white recording of one certain moustached man's speech. We had barely seen the end of the english announcement where Texas had been declared the first territory to been captured by the Reich. We had completly missed this living in the middle of nowhere, and had thought nothing of the distant rumbling sounds, which in afterthough probably where tanks headding for Huston. I held Alice's delicate hand as she leaned against me, as I gave my only brother an short glance. A smile had started to spread on his face and I gave him and angry look. It was just the kind of smile he would make just before he would do or reveal something stupid he have done, like last yearwhen he had made a superhero cape out of my favorite skirt.\n\n\"I'll beat you to a pulp if you say it.\"My eyes narrowed down on him.\n\"Like sis would ever. Sticks and stones may break my bones but you can't stop me from talking.\"he gleafully replied. I crossed my arms best I could while maintaining my hold of my sister hand. He turned back to look at the tv, tilting and shaking his head slighty as if he had thought of something clever.\n\n\"I did nazi that coming.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An Amazing Rock Concert Really Can Change the World!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After years of work, I have finally found a way to change the world, music will change everything, or maybe not the music itself but my tools to make it. I once heard of artifacts that can create a sound that will resonate around the world, these tools, will make violence end and create peace.\n\nAfter I found them I returned home to strike up a deal with a popular band, for a certain amount of money they would help me and speak my words to world. I can create peace once again.\n\nI am standing back stage with an ancient box I hold it open to the band members who gladly take the artifacts and then walk to the stage. I watch them as they prepare for their set, wondering if my wish can really be granted. I never believed in magic or paranormal powers but have to do something.\n\nI wait patiently, glancing over at the box, when I see something inside, a piece of paper, a lyric sheet maybe? I unfold it, it seems to be a journal\n\n\"The world is not good right now, in my village people are killing each other over land, and goods. there seems to be no end.\"\n\n\"My friends agree with me about the state of things. things need to change, but how.\"\n\n\"Music has always been powerful in my life, maybe that can help some how.\"\n\n\"We are forming a group, maybe we can influence people with our sound.\"\n\n\"Tell others about our plan, but the tell us that without money, or power, we can't change anything.\"\n\n\"They are wrong. We are not corrupted by power, thats why we can change things.\"\n\n\"Tonight we play!\"\n\n\"My friends, were killed, our music it angered people, they thought we were mocking them, after the show we were attacked, I was the only one to survive.\"\n\n\"Something happened, I was found by some of the richest people in the village but they were not angry they wanted my help.\"\n\n\"We held a council today, announcing that things are changing, that what happened at my show was unforgivable. Now under the employ of those we call the Leaders, a group of soldiers will watch over our people and make sure things calm down.\"\n\n\"We succeeded, though I lost my friends their words resonate through out the village, no the world, the rules and their enforcers, the idea has spread, maybe one day everywhere will follow this way.\"\n\n\"Here I bury the memory of my friends, and a piece of their power, my drummers sticks, the bassists strings, and the guitarists pick, in hopes that if the world falls in to disarray again the spirit of my friends can fix things.\"\n\nAfterwords there is a list of dates, decades apart, all added by different people. Each one is a year that a horrible event somewhere in the world was ended.\n\nAt the bottom was a note, but it a different handwriting from all the others. it reads: \"There is no magic.\"\n\nI was confused, there had to be magic, everything these artifacts have done, they have changed so much of the world. I sit and think, why would that note be there? To throw me off? To make sure nothing changes? No, no its there because its the truth.\n\nI have to stop everything, I run on stage and stop the band, I know they will do nothing.\n\nA year has passed since then, I got the artifacts, and I met a few people. They agree with me, they want change so we decided to team up. We are at a venue, it is small and there is not much of a crowd, but it will work for now. I walk up to the mic and speak, \"Hello everyone, I am glad you are here to listen, This world is corrupted, and I want to change this. I do not stand up here for your money or praise, but so you can hear my words.\"Most people are ignoring me not caring what I have to say, but this is what I am talking about, the powerful will take what they want, but the weak will just sit back and sulk. I won't stand this, it make me sick just looking at it I know things can be changed but they need a push. \"WE ARE THE WORLD SAVING SPARK, AND WE ARE GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You find a magic lamp and are given three wishes. What are they?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The genie wasn't how I had always envisioned them in my head.\n\nFor one thing, he wasn't big and blue, with bulging muscles and those metal bands around his fat wrists. Instead, he was wearing a tee shirt, the logo faded to obscurity amid what had to be years of occasional stains, and a pair of faded and scuffed jeans. He looked more like a surfer than a magical being.\n\nIf he hadn't appeared with a clap of thunder in the middle of the antique shop, out of thin air, I would have never pegged him as unusual at all.\n\nCurrently, he was staring down at me with a rather pained expression. He was quite tall, so he could pull off a very imposing downward stare. \"Well?\"he demanded.\n\n\"Well what?\"\n\n\"Ugh. Come on, haven't you mortals figured this out yet?\"The man rolled his eyes, looking around at the dusty antiques surrounding us without much interest. \"God, I always end up coming through in places like this,\"he complained. \n\nWas mortals an insult? Not quite knowing what to say, I instead gestured towards the front of the shop. \"We could go for a walk outside if you wanted some fresh air?\"I suggested.\n\nFor the first time, the genie actually looked vaguely interested. \"Sounds great,\"he replied. One hand gestured back behind him as he strode forward. \"Don't forget to grab the lamp.\"\n\nI reached out and snatched up the lamp (a rather hideous thing, I was just trying to buff some dirt off the crest to see if I recognized the name), sticking it under one arm as I hurried after the genie.\n\n\"Ahh, that's better!\"the man announced with considerably more appreciation as we exited the shop. I had been caught by the elderly little storekeeper, and ended up having to fork over four dollars in wrinkled bills before she let me leave with the lamp. She had insisted on wrapping it up in some old newspaper, and it now sat at the bottom of a small shopping bag. \n\nEvery now and then, the man walking in front of me would send a glance backward towards that bag. They were casual, barely even noticeable, but I saw them. He was definitely attached to the lamp.\n\n\"So how does this work?\"I finally spoke up, after two blocks. \"I get three wishes?\"\n\n\"Yeah, exactly. Then I get to get out of this stupid dimension.\"\n\n\"Are there any restrictions?\"\n\nThe genie shrugged. \"Heck, not really. I've heard them all, but most of them are totally possible. You can't mess up the laws of physics too much, but other than that, go nuts.\"\n\nI didn't have much experience with genies, or wishes, for that matter. Most of my wishes had dwindled down in my mind over the years. Instead of looking forward to achieving world peace or fame, I simply looked forward to the end of the day, to maybe affording that nice jacket I'd seen in the department store window.\n\nNot something that requires divine intervention.\n\nWe were still walking, and I tried to think of what I knew of genies. Unfortunately, most of my experience came from when I'd had to sit through *Aladdin* four times with my niece's kid. And that wasn't quite the most modern available reference. I couldn't think of any other alternatives, though.\n\n\"So,\"I finally ventured. \"Do you want me to wish for you to be set free?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A master thief is in his target location. Just as he receives his texted instructions, his phone dies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The time of aquiring the item was specifically defined. It must have been a big deal. Or the new client was being overly OCD. Last time she worked for a man like this one it didn't end well. Neither for them nor for her. Blood was spilt. Just some collateral damage. She had to take a long vacation afterwards. She always hated being controlled anyway.\n\nKylie was at the scene, about to receive her texted instructions within few seconds. She held the phone ready. And suddenly the screen blacked out.\n\n\"Dead? What the...\"she whispered angrily.\n\nThere was no time to waste. She reached her front pocked and got out the backup phone. The message must have been redirected. And it was. She read the code, opened the safe, packed the item, cleaned everything up and started heading back. Another day, another success.\n\n\"Good thing I'm a professional,\"she smirked." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The 2014 Vampire Convention is off to a rocky start." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Uh hi,hello everyone and welcome to the vampire-seriously? You're already trying to eat the-...\"\n\n\"Guys! Don't eat the media we need them to show we aren't evil or-...*sigh*\"\n\n\"HEY this was supposed to be a nice convention of vampires, we HAD plenty of blood bags for refreshments until someone SLASHED them all!\"\n\n\"*ugh*.. okay, okay, would all the mortals please stop screaming and running from the vampires flying through the site and ripping throats out and just exit in an orderly fashion? Just do that for me? Anyone? No? Fuck it I'm out.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A daycare worker loses a child in their care." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I bought him a teddy bear because sick little boys with sad eyes could do with more hugs.\n\n\nHe didn't like the teddy, thought it was childish, so I spent the afternoon animatedly discussing the intricacies of stuffed animals with him. We decided he needed a Tiger.\n\n\n\nHe loved Tiger, and the two would follow me around the playroom, happily 'assisting' me when he could. That is, when he wasn't playing pranks. Children, even when sick, can be total rotters.\n\n\nHe made up for the pranks with pictures. He loved colouring. He'd spend hours hunched over concentrating on getting things just right. The pictures were of me with my beaky nose, of my handbag, of my car, of me greeting him at the door in the morning, of my boyfriend - \"Big Fred\"to him -, even a deconstruction of my desk. He also liked drawing the playground. And the sun! A thousand pictures of the playground with big smiling sunny faces.\n\n\nHe hadn't been drawing much the last two weeks though. The hospital scares him. And he has to go soon. He doesn't like drawing when scared. So I held his hand and waited as his time came. And I told the most extravagant lies. Which of course you shouldn't do. They drill down to you the importance of honesty. This time though I made an exception.\n\n\nFive days ago, he entered St. Anne's. \n\n\nAnd then he was gone.\n\n\nNo more smiling morning greetings from that shining face.\n\n\nI'm glad to see him go. He and his mother had moved to be close to the hospital. Now they were heading home. I was happy their finally would be re-united. Not all our transplant stories end well.\n\n\n Go play with your friends in the sun, child. I'll drop by sometime.\n\n\nPromise." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Irrefutable proof that global climate change is NOT affected by humans comes to light. It still happens naturally, but the Earth is a self-regulating system which accounts for human impact. What is humanity's reaction, and what's life like five years after the announcement?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Famines came.\n\nThe untold number of species lost.\n\nThe billions of lives lost.\n\nBut its okay that we didn't change our lifestyles because the cause wasn't our fault.\n\nThe sun just gets hotter sometimes, and cooler others.\n\nIt didn't matter that when people finally believed the horror of the five degrees centigrade change would make at a global level, that that knowledge came with the \"comfort\"that it wasn't our fault.\n\nWhat comfort is that knowledge to a deer crossing the road in front of a semi? It's not his fault." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write me one amazing sentence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was storm-tossed, on the wave-beaten shore of the vast grey continent that clung to the gravid curve of the darkest world, under black clouds and white lightning, that the last space wizard made his last stand against the insatiable army of the warp emperor, astride his robot unicorn, in the shadow of the wreck of the ancient galactic cruiser that had brought him to that dire place; and as he raised his crystal sword, that shined its searing light, to charge the endless ranks that sought to push him back into the crashing, poison sea, where even now the terrible leviathans breached, the last space wizard looked to the horizon, where the black triangles that he knew were the emperor's obsidian pyramid palace loomed, and he recalled one last time the single word of wisdom that the great space dragon had chosen to share with him: FIGHT." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Hawaiian island of Kaho'olawe was a military testing ground in the 1940s and is now uninhabited -- except by ghosts, as your visiting characters discover." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'I really don't think we should be here.' Harris said, adjusting his headtorch as the pair fought through the brush.\n\n'It'll be fine, no-one knows we are here. Besides, we can say we're from the National Geological Survey, they'll buy that.' Dr Aiden replied, pushing further into the jungle. They were closing in on the Sailor Hat test zones, the site of their experiment. Dr Aiden had wanted to get out here earlier but the Hawaiians weren't exactly sympathetic to her request to 'probe their spiritual island for possible paranormal activity.' Thank God she had a fisherman friend and no qualms about trespassing.\n\nThe pair reached the test site, dotted with large craters created from tons of TNT. It looked oddly beautiful, the pools of water inside each one glistening in the moonlight. The perfect setting to test the doctor's theories. She closed in one of the craters, carefully walking round its circumference.\n\n'Again, I'm really sure that what we are doing is not only really offensive, but incredibly wrong.' Harris remarked, sheepishly looking into the crater.\n\n'Oh, where's your sense of adventure? The worst that could happen is that we summon the spirits of the dead and we are killed horrifically and the best case is that we summon the spirits of the dead and we get off with light emotional trauma. It'll be fine.' Dr Aiden replied, marking out positions to place her scanners. 'Right, this should do. Set up the transmitters at these points and we'll start testing.'\n\nAs Harris carefully placed each transmitter, Dr Aiden set up her experiment. She was to fire a continuous radio pulse over each crater, to hopefully stir any paranormal beings into anger or at least mild curiosity. If her calculations were correct, she should have a bunch of angry ghosts, all wondering why they have been disturbed from their sleep. \n\nOnce Harris was finished setting up, he came back over to the doctor, who was frantically plugging wires in and tuning to correct frequencies. 'So, why do you think they are ghosts here? Did the army discover them during the war and tried to blow them up with large amounts of TNT?' Harris asked, wiping off his glasses and increasing the brightness on his headtorch.\n\n'Don't be so silly, you can't kill ghosts with explosives. They're creatures existing on a different plane of existence, TNT isn't going to do much. No, I reckon the ghosts are here because one, it is an obviously sacred place to some people so they won't get bothered by tourists and two, it's nice and sunny here. Ghosts still enjoy a bit of sun and sand.' the doctor replied, dialing in the final frequencies.\n\n'You can't be serious. You reckon that the shades of the deceased are gathering here for a bit of a holiday?' Harris answered incredulously.\n\n'They're still human Harris, I'd want to spend my days in the afterlife somewhere nice. Now shut up and put these on, I'm about to fire the first pulse.' She passed her associate a pair of ear defenders and pushed the big red FIRE button on her console. The earth began to rumble as the pulse began to sound. After about 30 seconds, the pulse stopped and there was silence. Dr Aiden looked at her machine, thumping the side of it.\n\n'Well, that was a bit of an anticlimax. Oh well, no harm no foul Harris.' Harris did not answer. 'Come on Harris, it's not that bad.'\n\nHarris now hung in the air, his eyes glowing bright white.\n\n'Well, that's new.'\n\nHis head snapped and stared at the doctor, whose eyes were wide with joy.\n\n'*WHO DARES DISTURB OUR SACRED GROUND?*' a voice screeched, it piercing the dark of the night. The sensor on Dr Aiden's console started to go haywire, as more voices screamed at the disturbance.\n\n'Well, sorry if I woke you, I'm just here to check if you actually exist.' Dr Aiden said, staring up at her floating associate.\n\n'*SILENCE. WE CAME TO THIS ISLAND TO ESCAPE FROM YOUR KIND AND YOU ARE SO RUDE TO BLAST NOISE SO LATE AT NIGHT.* the ghost replied, Harris' body flailing in anger.\n\n'Well, er...' Dr Aiden stammered as more voices began to wail. She now noticed that the coastguard had begun to join the choir of screams, trying to track down the source of this disturbance.\n\n'Now, I may have a problem.'\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your protagonist faces, and conquers, your most troubling fear." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Fuck, she’s here. You said she wasn’t gonna be here. Why is she here?!*\n\n*Dude, calm down! I didn’t know this was open invite. Why don’t you talk to her?*\n\nBecause he couldn’t! Not after what he found out. His stomach imploded the second it had registered in his mind. Hasn’t talked to her in days. Ignored her texts, calls, didn’t even read them. And now she’s here, at the party she wasn’t supposed to be at.\n\n*Maybe you should talk to her.*\n\n*No.*\n\n*Dude she’s coming over here.*\n\n*Shit shit shit shit.*\n\nHe thought about it some more. Maybe it was the 3 drinks he had downed suddenly kicking in, or an inexplicable wave of clarity, maybe both. He’ll talk to her. He’ll say what he’s been thinking all this time. \n\nAnd there she was. Time stopped. She wore that dress he likes that’s red. He got tunnel vision, could only see her. He spoke before she had a chance:\n\n“I love you.”\n\n“I love you too. You hungry? Let’s get Chinese. I’ll drive.”\n\n“I’d like that.”\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Retell a story from classic literature, only with common kitchen objects as the characters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Pearl Blade and the Seven Sugar Spoons*\n\nOnce upon an egg-timer, there lived a wonderful chef knife in a grand, beautiful castle. And what a knife she was. Her edge was keener than obsidian, her steel shined, her handle shone white. That's actually where she got her name, and whoever named her was a terribly uncleaver bastard.\n\nThis is the story of Pearl Blade.\n\nNow, Pearl Blade had a wonderfully insecure step-mother. Her edge was almost as keen, her steel was almost as shiny, and her handle was a deep black speckled with brown. Her name was Ebony.\n\nAnd every day, Ebony would go up to the top of a secret room in the top of the tower and look at a magical sharpener. There she would speak these words:\n\n\"Sharpener sharpener on the wall, who's the keenest of them all?\"\n\nAnd the sharpener would reply:\n\n\"Only you, fair Black, can cut a lion's back.\"\n\nThe author would like to note that this is not a terribly wonderful achievement, considering the back end of a lion is about as thick as two sheets of paper. But it was symbolic, and that satisfied ol' Ebony.\n\nBut one day, when Ebony reached the sharpener and said the words, a different phrase met her blade.\n\n\"You are sharp, Ebony dear. But it is dear Pearl who is the sharpest in the world.\"\n\nEbony rusted with anger and concocted a plan. She went out to the woods disguised as a cheap paring knife and found herself a K-Bar. Silently, she bid him over.\n\n\"I have for you riches untold if you can complete a task so bold.\"\n\n\"Name your task, old hag, and I'll accept these riches in your bag.\"\n\n\"You must take a young blade into the woods. Dull her edge and rust her good.\"The K-Bar nodded and accepted this task." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Punisher travels to Sin City. What happens to the criminals in it?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is FOX news reporting live from Sin City where, as you can see behind me folks, nearly everyone here is badly injured or dead.\n\nEarly reports say that around 9pm last night the troubles began as downtown turned into a war zone. It is believed by FOX news that a team of almost 10 men, all dressed identically, came onto the scene and began opening fire on various places of business. The owners of the establishments tried to negotiate peacefully but were met with a hail of gunfire and were forced to defend their lives. \n\nThe battle then raged across the city, systematically taking out the homes of the most generous and responsible men FOX has ever had the pleasure of knowing. \n\nAt every location the men planted great amounts of drugs, weapons and money in a pathetic attempt to frame the men. The police and yours truly believe the men are unconnected to the contraband. \n\nAs of yet there is no ID on any of the suspects, but as only one suspicious car was seen heading away from town, a giant manhunt is underway looking for the rest of the team. It is widely thought that this was a plot by Al Qaeda as several were heard to shout \"Death to America\"during the gunfight. \n\nUp next on FOX news, Is your baby the Antichrist? Find out next\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A mysterious virus has infected everyone on the planet, wiping their memories but otherwise leaving them unharmed. However, it's discovered that for some reason people born between 1989 and 1999 have not lost their memories." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stop laughing. I'm serious.\"\n\n\"Bull shit! did I use that right. Bull shit? I did read this. On the second page this guy Lot bangs his two daughters. They get him drunk enough to not know who they are but sober enough to actually impregnate them? That's a story written by a man who fucked his daughters if I ever heard of one. And later there is a flood that kills everyone? Where does all the water come from? We did some quick calculations, that's not possible either. This whole thing is full of shit. Did you read this bit about slaves? God tells the people certain rules for owning people?! If that's your God he's not worthy of praise.\"\n\n\"But if you don't come to love they lord you will burn for all eternity in hell.\"\n\n\"The place God made in case I don't worship him above all others? Where is rape in that list? Where is not owning people? Go peddle your delusions else where.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're given an opportunity to live a much better version of your life in a parallel universe, but struggle with the potential effects of your disappearance on those left behind if you go." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first I thought I was just dreaming. It was a logical assumption, after all, it only happened when I was asleep, and I was even aware that my body was still asleep when it first started. Back then, it was even possible to snap back to my native universe at will; all I had to do was confront the inconsistencies and I'd feel like I passed out and awoke in my own reality again. I thought it was merely lucid dreaming, and as I enjoyed most of these experiences, I really didn't mind.\n\nThen there was the day I ran into my grandmother. She'd been dead for a few months in \"my\"universe, her house had been sold, and I was living with my parents. I'd sold my Mustang to free up the funds to pay rent on a place of my own. I fell asleep that night, like any other, and at some point entered the \"lucid dream\". I was standing in my grandmother's front yard, my Mustang was parked right behind me on the street, and I knew it wasn't right, but I felt like it was. I looked down and realized I was dressed much better than usual, suit and tie instead of jeans and a t-shirt. I approached the front door, got out my keys, and though they looked different, they fit the lock, and opened the door. Once inside, everything was familiar, but none of it was quite right. My grandmother, and my girlfriend who had passed away the year before were both there, sitting in chairs my grandparents had gotten rid of many years ago. The house was nice and neat, not the cluttered mess it'd been after the death of my grandfather, and though I knew it wasn't, it all felt right. Overloaded by that feeling, I looked at the two of them, and said \"I must be hallucinating\", and promptly passed out. This time, it was different. In my previous \"dreams\"it merely felt like I'd passed out when I woke up in my own reality. This time, I felt the room start spinning, felt my knees buckle, felt myself hit the floor. When I came to on my own couch, I was sore. That's when I knew something special was going on.\n\nEvery night when I'd start to dream, from then on, I'd try to get back to that \"dream\". As I did this, I discovered another reality where another version of me was aware of what was going on, and that version of my mother explained it to me. She was actually excited to meet me, as she'd met several versions of me, and enjoyed talking to each of us and discovering just what her \"sons\"were up to. She kept notes, and even took pictures that she kept in a scrapbook, and treated each of us as if we were \"hers\". I was jealous of this version of myself for having such an awesome version of my mother, but this still wasn't the reality I wanted, I wanted the one where my grandmother and girlfriend were still alive.\n\nAs I ventured into various universes, I discovered that I was many things; a farmer, a racecar driver, a scientist, a drug dealer, a bum, but in all of them, my girlfriend and grandmother were dead. I visited dozens of universes on any given night, sometimes even visiting the same one more than once.\n\nAfter several years, it started getting harder to leave the other universes. Confronting the inconsistencies with my own no longer snapped me back home instantly, and I knew my time was running out to find that universe that haunted my memory. On another visit to the universe where my \"mother\"was keeping records of her \"sons\"I asked her if the other versions of me were having the same difficulties. She confirmed it for me, stating that her native \"son\"actually hadn't come back in several weeks, and that she was starting to get worried.\n\nI had taken up the study of string theory, quantum mechanics, and theoretical physics in my spare time, trying to fully understand what was going on; and I spent all of the time I could in the lab of the scientist versions of myself when I'd visit their universes. I realized that I only had five shifts left before I'd become stuck in the universe I was in at that point, and had a working theory as to how to select the one I wanted.\n\nIf you're reading this, I'm sorry I've left so many things unfinished, un-said, and left such a mess in my room. I'm not doing this to hurt you; I just can't live without the two most important people in my life. You'll never know if I've succeeded or not, but I had to try. I hope you understand all of this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The world has been consumed by war for too long. Parties on all sides struggle for control. But as crowns clash, the shadow of death looms. From the heart of the sea, in the abyssal chasm from a time before men, the mother awakens. The true queen of the world has returned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's been 21 long years fighting in this war and I'm starting to wonder if there is any hope left for the future of mankind. The foot soldiers have invaded all major cities across the globe and have gained control of local and national governments, if you could call that control. The foot soldiers communicate to each other unintelligibly but somehow they are able to accomplish some truly terrifying feats of carnage and destruction. We lost, who we now call, The Great Yellow about 13 years ago. That was the turning point in the war for the foot soldiers. She was like a sister to me and a voice of hope to the rest of us. We just simply can't be everywhere at once, and the foot soldiers, though weak, outnumber us 1000 to 1. It's been nearly a year since I've seen Zach, he's off fighting the war in Asia. As I get into my mechanized beast to head back into battle, I hear a shrieking voice that shakes the heavens. It is a voice I thought I would never hear again and words that surely have sealed all of our fates, \"Make my monster grow!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"And that, was the worst pain I have ever endured.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was one of those days when you are at all times consciously aware of the fact that you have to poop; except when there's a toilet nearby.\n\nSo I was at school and my school is one of those school where you'd rather go home because you are \"sick\", then to go to the toilet. I was waiting for coming home all day because I would be able to free myself of the heavy load waiting inside of my belly. \n\nOn the way home the issue became more and more pressing. I was driving as fast as I possibly could, slammed open the door and while keeping on my shoes and jacket I ran to the toilet. I smashed the door open pulled my trousers down and sat down as fast as I could. This is where I made one of my worst mistakes since buying a xbox. \n\nFor you to fully understand the matter, I have to explain something to you. Please do this: O o O o O o with your asshole. \n\nYou know what I mean? Good. Normally when you are shitting, your anus should be like this: O. But I made the great mistake, that while hastily wanting to finish the business, I pressed it out with my anus still closed: o. What followed was the pain a mother must have while giving birth. Only that the baby was my poop and the ... you know what I mean. The pain slowly crept upwards into my lower body and it hurt so much, that I had to stand up. I nearly lost my consciousness and forgot everything including time and space. I didn't think I didn't really feel. There was nothing but one thing: Pain. \n\nNow imagine me, standing in front of the toilet pants pulled down hands pressing against the belly, eyes forcefully closed and screaming like hell. Until then I didn't fully understand the pain some women must have during their first time trying out anal.\n\nIt should have been an lazy evening in front of the computer but I was nothing but regrets." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a short story which contains the line: \"I waited for everything to pass, for the people to step out and tell me the planes hadn't fallen.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The teddy bear sits in the high way with no one passing him, no cars, nothing the simple teddy bear never without its child sometimes even without its adult whom it has been with for its entire life. But now, he was alone. The humans had all simply vanished. Lothar the German teddy bear was sitting next to his faithful little girl Catrin in the back of a volkswagen beetle when suddenly she was gone along with the parents whose names he did not know. The car was still running but they were gone. He wondered if he had dozed off and they stopped for a spontaneous picnic. He decided they had not. He climbed out the window and walked four miles and sat in the high way where somebody dropped a radio.\"An EMP has been set off in the center of Berlin creating a circle of powerlessness that goes five miles outside the city.\"Lothar decided he must have been two miles outside of the city when the bomb whent off. He simply walked far enouph to get outside of the circle. \"Planes are falling above the city. One of them is predicted to crash on top of the capital. Power is trying to be restored to the city so we can evacuate.\"Lothar decided to walk until he found a house. Lothar walked fifteen miles to the closest house where he hid in the bushes.\"I waited for everything to pass, for the people to step out and tell me the planes hadn't fallen\". He would later write in his biogrophy (He's a teddy bear he can do what he wants.) an old German woman stepped out of the back door and yelled into the field \"Armin! The planes! They didn't fall!\"\"Yes!\"Yelled Lothar. \"What was that?\"Said the old woman.\n\n Epilogue\n The old woman found Lothar in the bushes and fell in love with him. She left her husband Armin, and found a house in America Where she grew older and died and Lothar was discovered by a reporter who got him an interview on GMA. Lothar still lives in his penthouse in northern California and will continue to live forever because Teddy Bears are immortal." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are Groot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I.... am.... Groot\"\n\n\"OH MY GOD! PETER COME HERE, GROOT FINALLY GREW OLD ENOUGH TO SPEAK!\"\n\n\"ROCKET! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT WAVING GUNS WHILE IN MY SHIP. I do not need another chip in my windshie- DID YOU SAY GROOT CAN TALK!\"\n\n\"ILL PUT THE GUN DOWN JUST COME HERE! HE TALKED!\"\n\n\"I'M DRIVING A SPACESHIP I CAN'T COME UNLESS YOU WANT US TO CRASH!\"\n\n\"Groot do it again, louder so that Peter can hear you.\"\n\n\n\"I..... am...... GROOOT.\"\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are working fast food place and..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All of the sudden everyone decided that they would rather have slices of pizza in order to eat one more slice to try to find some way to dissect the truth from the sauce not the ketchup or mustard that they had become so accustomed to in order to accumulate enough thoughts to substantiate some sort of fallacious claim about something that some of the other people had already intended on discovering when they all decided it would be better to have some sort of other thing that could turn into a chicken or something. Thanks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "My first try at writing a story. A young woman struggles with the loss of her brother and uncle. (Work in progress)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's choppy and repetitive. Extend and combine your sentences so that they all have distinct meaning. \n\nThe first paragraph is the biggest offender. There are too many distracting tension building sentences like \"They won't be happy about this. They never are. It's fine to build tension, but you don't really give a reason at the end of the first chapter. Or even the second. What's the deal? Why is she afraid? \n\nYou seem to imply that her ghosts can control the weather. Clarify? Does she know anything at all about these things? Has she tried to talk to them? How about Dom and Frank themselves. Are they voices, ghosts, people in the pictures talking? Maybe tell us more about how Claire perceives the intrusions. Can they interact with the physical world? Do they have bodies? Can she see them or feel their presence or just hear their voices? Do they want something? \n\nYou wrote this in present tense which is unusual. Most people write in past tense.\n\nThe \"Ol' Tommy\"part is a bit overdone. I've never heard someone refer to a person as Ol' anything, have you? And then being overcome with emotion? Seems a bit strained along with Claire's breakdown as well. It all feels rushed. I understand Claire's weak mental state when considering she's hearing ghosts, but why does it trigger such strong feelings in Claire when she learns it's an arson case? The brunt of her emotional damage is from the death of Dom and Frank, right? These people are firemen so wouldn't they have died while trying to stop the fire whether or not it was arson? It's not like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and an arsonist killed them. Also you should look into similar real life case to see what charges the arsonist faces. I could be wrong but I think manslaughter or murder would be added if someone dies in an arson case. In my opinion (take it or leave it), Claire would be deadened, uncaring or angry when faced with a care of possible arson. Tommy is more likely to be angry, but I doubt he would express it in an overly dramatic way on television, unless he's a very dramatic person." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your character is exploring an ancient and mysterious environment. Write about their experiences." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wormed deeper into the tunnel, my suit rasping from the sand and grit on all sides of me. \"I'm almost in.\"My colleagues were waiting by the entrance outside - exposed against the wind and the cold of the barren alien planet. \n\n\"Okay, we're here if you need us.\"\n\nThe drone had already produced a three-dimensional gridmap of the interior, which was displayed on my HUD. The tunnel went on for a further thirty metres before widening out and curving downwards to open at the top of an enormous atrium. We thought it might have been a ventilation shaft. The drone had also captured some video, which we had reviewed last night while eating pizza in the lander. What we saw didn't make sense, and we had decided to send someone in. I drew the short straw. \n\n\"Good thing I'm not claustrophobic.\"\n\nThe curve downwards was gradual, but eventually I reached the edge and looked down. It was pitch dark inside. Bioluminesence pouches on the outside of my suit replaced the need for flashlight, but the light didn't reach the ground. \n\n\"I'm at the edge. There's indentations in the rock in the main chamber. Looks like heiroglyphics. Definitely not random.\"\n\nI winced as the receiver in my suit relayed the cheers of my colleagues outside. We had just confirmed the biggest discovery in human history. And we were the first to see it.\n\n\"Okay, take it slow. You've got all the time in the world.\"\n\nI knew they were jealous. I was about to see first-hand what no human alive had ever borne witness to: artifacts created by alien minds. \n\nI opened the briefcase that I'd dragged in with me. Inside was the cable to lower me down into the chamber. The anchor I placed behind me, and it opened like a starfish, imbedding itself into the rock on all sides. The cable was a diamond nano-filament - intellectually I knew it would hold. But that didn't stop my heart rate rising as I clipped in and crawled over the edge. \n\nI glanded some *focus* to bring my heart-rate back down to normal and concentrated on my breathing. I took out a light rod and dropped it down to the floor of the chamber. I thought I heard a clack as it landed. It relayed to my suit - 80 metres depth. Hanging there, I shone my torch around me - it was easily fifty metres across the chamber as well.\n\n\"Okay, I'm going down.\"\n\nNo response. \n\n\"Guys. I'm going down. Respond.\"\n\nI pinged their receivers with my suit. No reply. \n\n\"Guy! Respond.\"\n\nThe light rod at the floor of the atrium winked out. Those things had a twenty-four hour battery life. That wasn't supposed to happen.\n\n\"Okay, you guys are freaking me out. I'm coming back up.\"I sent a command to the winch to pull me back up. Nothing happened. I had the suit begin a diagnostic of the winch. The suit couldn't detect the winch.\n\nI made contact with the drone. I ordered it to recall to me. The drone acknowledged. I ordered the drone to being scanning for the others. The drone did not respond. My suit couldn't detect the drone.\n\nI thought about ascending by hand, but the cable was too thin for that - I couldn't grip it with my suit gloves. \n\nThe lights in my suit went out. I queried the lights on my suit. My suit couldn't detect the light software. \n\nMy suit went dark. I searched my mind, but the operating software wasn't there.\n\nI hung there, and thought of my next move. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're just a regular person going about your day in a regular way. Nothing strange going on at all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's funny how you can watch time pass like a magma river flows, slowly caressing the seconds, when in different circumstances you don't realize time even exists. It's also pretty damn funny how much being bored and hungry at work can make your mind wander about such things as your perception of time. I guess that's the only thing you can do when you are doing such mechanical work.\n\nLet's finish with you already, this goes to that socket, turn it around, close the cap, there it goes. Oh! Here comes another piece, my oh my, the enjoyment! It's true, I should do something with my life, that I know, but never start. But today I will start, just wait until I get home. After eating, I will not make the usual cup of coffee and start browsing the internet, that's what gets me in the trap every time. Instead, I will put on my shorts, yes I will, because the weather is perfectly good for a run, and I have to start today, that is the first step to a big change. Oh shit, I need to focus on my work too, these pieces will not assemble themselves, and there's twenty-two left.\n\nAnyway, after the run I will get home, and redo my résumé, I need to find another job, even if only to get out of this repetitive nightmare for some time. Why did the stupid headphones have to break today, of all days? I usually have a replacement in my backpack but after that trip to the woods god knows where on Earth I left them. How could I know these ones would break in the first twenty minutes of work?\n\nLet's look at the bright side, if I was listening to the radio or to music I would not be this tremendously bored and probably would not have decided to make a change today, so I will take this as a signal. Yeah, no, there is no signal alright, since there is no big force sending signals to humans to make them ponder about life, but I will take it as some kind of divine intervention. Heh, what a crappy god would that be, if these signals were his or hers or its or whatever you should call god if god would be such a concept to be real. Again I digress, as usual. I am so fucking hungry! These ten minutes that are left will become an eternity, I am sure of it.\n\nThis is the best thing about my job though, no doubt, ten more minutes and I can go home. I love the feeling of knowing that I can leave, have lunch and enjoy the rest of the day, but I dread these last minutes. I need a change in attitude! Come at me stupid pieces, you can't bother me no more! Yes, only seven more and I can leave.\n\nJust focus on what you have to do. Get home, grab some chicken, eat, and... That's right, straight to the room, put on the shorts and go running. No coffee, no excuses, just focus. And after running and the job searching I need to play some TGF3 and finish watching that movie. So many games to play, and movies to watch, I should really just focus on some of them, the list is endless and I keep adding and adding. This is not what I have to do, I need to change it, but one thing at a time, first do something productive and keep going at it, then move on to some other stuff.\n\nPhew, about time, that was the last one, let's get out of here! Alright, sure, see you tomorrow receptionist, whatever your name is. Something to think about, these social conventions. Where did it come from? Why is it so important to just acknowledge someone is there for some people? Well, whatever let's listen to some music! At least the car radio, old as it is, still works.\n\nFinally home, let's eat and watch something while we're at it, shall we? This spiced chicken is so good, at least eating healthy is something I am accomplishing. Imagine, if I feel good about something as simple as eating chicken, what I will feel after running. Mind is off, show is on, talk to you later and remember: Do not start the coffee machine!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write with POV of an animal, domestic or wild, about that animal's best day in their life, but without making it obvious what species the protagonist is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stretch. \n\nYawn.\n\nSun is gone. Warmth is gone. Have to find new spot.\n\nI see Billy. Billy is nice. He has scratchy fingers. Right there. Yes! Mmm.\n\nI hear Amanda. Amanda is nice. She wields the magic light. Chase, chase, chase, got you! No? Haha!\n\nWhat’s that smell? Best smell! Favourite smell! Run, run, jump, run. Yummy yum!\n\nThere is sun. There is soft. Dilemma. I choose warmth. Aaah.\n\nStretch.\n\nYawn.\n\nI see boxes. Big boxes. Many boxes. Jump, jump, jump. Wee!\n\nStretch.\n\nYawn.\n\nBoxes disappear. Jump, jump, jump.\n\nI feel Billy. Thats the spot. Mmm!\n\nI feel Amanda. Stomach and ears? Oh my double Mmm!\n\nWet. I don’t like wet. Is it raining? No.\n\nLick, paw, lick, paw. Clean.\n\nSilence. Peace. Oh, there is sun spot and soft spot. No dilemma! Joy!\n\nStretch.\n\nYawn.\n\nDark. Play time! Crouch, sneak, run, pounce! Paw, chase, paw, chase. Yum!\n\n\n***\n\nMaybe a little too obvious. I am a little unsure if I should include all the \"mmm\"\"yum\"\"wee\"etc. I tried for a contrast between the implicit and the explicit message. I'm unsure if it worked. Maybe just the background music I'm listening too now makes the explicit message not so joyful. Ideas? Tips? :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You invent the time machine. First thing you do is kill Hitler. But when you return, the world is worse off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I did what most people in the world dreamed about, and finally killed Hitler. The aftermath, sadly, was worse than the war itself. Without the war, the United states never got out of their depression, and just faded away like many other powerful nations. Without Hitler's declaration of war, it allowed The Soviets to unify themselves that much faster with far less bloodshed in order to conquer the world. In addition, it prevented the crucial technologies developed in the war to ever come into existence, ensuring that technological progress would stay frozen under Soviet rule. It is 2130, in this world cameras were never improved, the internet doesn't exist, and leaked pictures of celebrities were never created. Now I must go back in time once again, I must prevent external causes for Hitler's demise at all costs." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You (or your character) wake up in an alternate universe in which no one knows who you are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I swear that I'm in your class Ms. Smith! Look, I even did the homework from yesterday\"!\n\nMs. Smith looked at me with a disapproving grin. \n\n\"I'm sorry kid, but you're not on the list. Go visit the dean if you have any questions concerning your schedule.\"\n\nI looked around the room frantically, looking for my friends. Surely Johnny and Lisa remember me, right?\n\nI exclaimed to them, \"Hey guys, what's up with Ms. Smith today\"?\n\nThey both looked back at me with confusion as Lisa said \"What the hell are you talking about? That seat has always been empty.\"\n\nIt hit me like a sucker punch to the gonads. I've been in this class for half of a year: how does no one remember me? Why, just yesterday I was browsing /r/TheFappening with Johnny in programming class. How does he not remember that? I spoke directly to Johnny,\n\n\"Johnny, you don't remember yesterday? Remember? Jennifer Lawrence\"?\n\nJohnny responded with, \"Dude, can you stop? You're kind of freaking me out. And who is Jennifer Lawrence\"?\n\nThis time, instead of a sucker punch, it felt like a swift roundhouse kick just firmly connected with my right kidney. Who's Jennifer Lawrence? What kind of question was that? Who the fuck doesn't know who JLaw is?\n\nI quickly took out my phone and mashed in the words \"Jennifer Lawrence\"into Google. Everyone knows that Google doesn't lie, right? But, staring back at me from my 4\"LED screen were the words \"Sorry, no results found.\"\n\nI took of my glasses and exclaimed the phrase \"my god.\"\n\nQuickly, I double tapped my home button and opened up Reddit. I slammed my finger onto /r/TheFappening. The screen shouted back at me. \"No results found.\"\n\nI went into a haze. I ran to the door and threw it open, bursting out of the doorway with the speed of a small compact car trying to get to work on a Monday. How is this possible? Why is it gone? I didn't get to save any of the pictures!\n\nI ran down the hallway and burst through the main door. There is something wrong with the school network, I told myself. Yeah, that must be it. Damn firewalls.\n\n I got into my car and turned the key. I adjusted the mirrors only to see a demonic face in the backseat. \n\n\"Hello, Mr. Brown. We've been expecting you.\"\n\nSuddenly, glass breaking. Doors thrown open. The taste of asphalt. \n\nMy assailant turned me right side up, locked his eyes with mine, and said...\n\n\"Here at the NSA, we don't leave loose ends.\"\n\nHe held up a small device with a light on the tip and exclaimed,\n\n\"Sweet Dreams.\"\n\n***Flash***\n.\n.\n.\n.\n.\n.\n\n***RINGGGGGG***\n\nI woke up with a start. This wouldn't be the first time I've slept through Biology. The class was empty, so I gathered my belongings and made my way to the door. I went up to Ms. Smith and gave her my essay that was due. \n\n\"Here you go, Ms. Smith.\"\n\nShe looked up from her work and said...\n\n***\"Who are you\"?***" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Set in the universe of Inception, you are a detective tasked with catching serial killers by entering their minds to discover if they are demented." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I maintain my own kit. The precints only maintain outdated military write-offs. Most of them can barely activate the damned things, much less know how to act right during the neural link. That's why the findings are not admissable in court - even a city defense attorney knows to say \"hypnotic suggestion implanted while under a duressed state\"for an easy dismissal.\n\nThat's why when I go, I look for leads, not confessions. There's always clues and evidence somewhere. This is just a heightened form of surveillance and not as much interrogation as you think.\n\nAlways bring them in for questioning on unrelated charges. Don't give them a chance to set up more mental barriers. Get them thinking about tax evasion or something they may have witnessed months ago.\n\nIf you mix the sedative with just a pinch of stimulant, they give you more vivd and malleable clay. A lot of kits just keep them under deep and that just makes the job harder. You start to lose control and not even know it.\n\n You have to shed your skin. Rookies can usually maintain another human form but still stick out. Me, I haven't gone in as a human in years. I'm a chair or a flower or a barrel. Props are never questioned.\n\nYou have to be adaptable and you have to be present to the needs of the scene. Your presence has to be intergrated.\n\nI've gotten pretty good at projection. My form'll be a poster on a wall in a mishmash of every school they attended but my awareness will be exploring the space. Checking the closets and hidden corners. Their minds still feed me the details to fill in the blanks, especially if I stay in range of their awareness.\n\nI tend not to go many levels deep. They usually look like levels from Goldeneye down there if they had any training. Maybe you'll find root causes if you get digging, sure, but I'm not a psychologist. I care about the smoking gun, not the trigger.\n\nNever summon the victims. Instead summon what they represent or items related to that person if they knew each other. Usually that's enough for them to fill in the blanks for you. Gentle touch.\n\nYes, there was once that disassociative autistic tulpa wonderland guy that implanted me with his memories and framed me pretty good. But my kit's custom logger showed what was what in the end. I did a lot of purging and tripled my own security measures. \nWe learned a lot from that experience. It's why the buddy system is SOP and even experts like me plug in for an inspection after an intense case. \n\nYou can't let their grime stick to you. Gotta be adaptable. Can't depend on the kit. Keep a sharp mind and a poker face. For example, I noticed the scenery change from interview room to lecture hall to backyard party since we started talking. You didn't even though you entered me. See, I don't mess around with dinky little tokens to test myself. I do big scene changes. And now we're here at my eighth birthday party, my last memory before the trauma and disassociative disorder. This is where I take invaders like you and bury them under this here tree. It's where I come to think like a madman. Your body's going to go into cardiac arrest. Then I make my escape. If you got some buddies waiting outside, it won't matter. You're already comatose; eventuallty I might pull the plug to be merciful. The last bit of you is in me and it is tree food. \n\nSee, the problem most people have is ego and persistent sense of self. But me? I'm [thirty nine squirrels](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2f08jx/wp_an_atheist_who_completely_rejects_the/ck6ygln?context=3) in a mansuit." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A primitive culture inhabits the ruins of our civilization. Without historical knowledge, how do they interpret what we left behind?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Deep into the future, a nomadic tribe accidentally stumbles upon a metropolis. They would not comprehend the immense architecture and designs that we have left behind when we left for the stars, perceiving that the mountains and caves of stone and corroded metal are the houses of the gods, or a race of giants.\n\nFor our vehicles, they would use them as stores, or dismantle them as shields and weapons and pans; they might learn metalcraft. For our halls and passageways they record their myths and exploits on the walls, adding their murals to our own. Without the game of the wild or the bushes of the field, they pursue every scarce living animal and forage apple fruit tree, ransack the stores and urban farms in search of food, and learn agriculture. They bathe themselves and drink by the murky ponds and rivers we once used as our fountains, pools, and aqueducts, only to find that many of them are poisoned. But at least, as there is much vegetation in the parks and the sides of the streets, which they can cut down for fires, or forage for food.\n\nOver time, our remains would instead cause them, through adapting and learning to survive in their \"mountain of the gods\", to bring back civilization from the brink. All we can hope, if we knew of this,\n\nIf anyone is out in the streets, they might attack him or her, and steal away what little would he or she have. Or, these remaining survivors could help rekindle the light of civilization, by teaching these archaic folk, adapting the ancient with what is left of the modern." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "I answered the phone, but noone was there. Again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stacy held her breath; she had the phone in a trembling hand. She slowly lifted it to her ear. “Hello,” she said, trying not to let her voice crack. There was no one there, again. “Hello?” Stacy asked again. She slammed the phone back into its cradle; it was as if the phone had become electrified and hurt to hold. She got up, checked the door of her apartment. Still locked. She returned to the couch by the phone. She sat with a sigh. She contemplated calling the police. But for what? Was it a crime to keep calling someone and not saying anything? Harassment, maybe. The number wouldn’t show up on the call display. She tried *69’ing but it wouldn’t connect.\n\n\nEvery night this week the phone would ring and when she would answer there was no one there. Once she thought she could hear breathing and the faint sound of a car horn in the background. Were there still any payphones around here? She wondered if she was being watched, stalked like some animal. *Hunted.* She tried to think of any weird or odd customers that had come into the pharmacy lately. There were the usuals, she didn’t suspect any of them, but…it was always the ones you least suspected. Not five years ago, that woman who’d lived in the retirement home was murdered by her husband of fifty years. Stacy slumped back in the couch. “Shit.” she muttered. “It’s probably just some stupid kids. Playing their idea of a prank.”\n\n\nThere were footsteps in the hall outside the door. Every muscle in her body tensed up, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly the steps faded, must be her neighbour coming home. Stacy realized she was holding her breath, she let it out slowly. You’re paranoid, she thought. Then, the phones ring cut through the silence of her apartment. Stacy let out a stifled shriek. She jumped out of her seat, grabbed the phone, but paused, letting it ring. Each ring was a cacophonous clatter that now sent chills racing down her spine. She sat frozen touching the phone, unsure if she should answer it. Unsure if she could answer it. Finally, she lifted the receiver. She just held it to her ear and listened. \n\n\n“Good evening Stacy,” a sonorous voice came from the ear piece. “Do you know the average response time for a first responder is to reach the scene of a 911 call?”\nStacy wanted to hang up the phone. She wanted to go running out of her apartment. She wanted to do anything but listen to this voice—a voice that she had no trouble imagining belonging to Lucifer himself. “In this town,” the voice continued, “three minutes.”\n\n\nStacy’s legs felt weak, her heart was beating in her chest hard enough that she could feel it emanating through her core. “Ready,” the voice said, “set…and go.” The line went dead. Stacy realized she was clutching the phone so hard it was hurting her hand. \n\n\nThere were footsteps coming down the hall again. Stacy let out an involuntary squeak. The footsteps got louder. They stopped outside her door. Stacy’s bladder betrayed her. She punched 9—1—into the phone, she held her finger, trembling, over the 1. She waited. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Stacy started to scream.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A spaceship approaches Mars. Onboard, the crew argues over which of them should be the first human to step on the Red Planet and what 'iconic line' they'll broadcast back to Earth as they do it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well it's cinnamon, not red\"\n\"George that's stupid, no-one cares what shade of red or brown it is. I would say: I don't see any Russians on this Red planet\"\n\"You racist cyka Sophia, no-one wants racism in the first line delivered from the surface of Mars, I would say: Comrades not only am I the first person to set foot on mars, I am also the first person to drink vodka.\"\n\"Uri, really? you want to celebrate your achievement with perpetuating a racist stereotype? I personally think the color should be addressed and we set an assumption straight.\"\n\"George, you don't get this, my family was the first on the moon and now I'm not letting you or that commie take it from me to make my lineage proud and being the first to set foot on the moon.\"\n\"Sophia please, I am no communist, however, if we cannot agree on the first on the planet maybe we can compromise?\"\n\nThe Mars lander set down on the apparently not quite red planet. The hatch opened and three people squeezed out of the hatch designed for one. All three set foot majestically on the Mars surface and said together \"Comrades, it's any Russians first person cinnamon red vodka\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Piglet wakes up to find his family gone. Goes on an adventure to find them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Piglet awoke late in the afternoon to the silence of an empty barn. He rolled off his impromptu bed of hay and began looking around for his family. \"Where are they?\"he wondered as he scanned around feverishly. As his grogginess wore off, the reality of the situation shook his mind into panic. Piglet had never been away from his family before. In his mind he tried to convince himself that it was all just a mean joke, that they would return at any moment and commend him for being so brave. But they never showed up. As the hours piled up, the worse Piglet felt. He sobbed uncontrollably at the prospect of being alone forever. \n\nPiglet's display caught the eye of a quizzical crow who swooped down to perch himself on the fence adjacent to the crying pig. \"Whats wrong little one?\"he cawed bluntly, \"No one around to sing you to sleep?\". Piglet wept. \"I took a nap and when I woke up I couldn't find my family.\"The crow cackled and flapped his wings while he stood on the rotted fencepost. \"I saw where you family went...\"he said alluringly, \"The farmer loaded them into a big green truck and brought them to the building at the end of the road.\". \"I could take you over to see them if you'd like.\"Piglet was overcome with a wave of relief. On some level he knew he was brave enough to find them, he just wished he could hug his mother one last time for a little extra courage before embarking. \n\nThe crow flew over to the fence gate and began to work on opening it. He had seen the farmer do it a thousand times. You tend to pick up on a lot of things when you're staking out a good patch of vegetables. After about 30 seconds he undid the latch and pushed the gate ajar with his feet. Piglet was elated. He began to roll around on the grass in triumph.\n\n\"Come my porcine friend, we mustn't dawdle.\"he cautioned from atop a tree. \"When the sun sets, all the dark things come out to hunt and you would make a fine morsel indeed.\". Piglet trotted down the side of the road at a determined pace as the crow took to the air to spot approaching vehicles. When trucks and cars would go by, Piglet would dash into the bushes on the edge of the street to avoid being spotted. \"Hey! watch where you're going, porker\"he heard after colliding with someone hidden in the brush. \"It's bad enough I'm being tracked by wolves, I don't need to be rubbed down with the scent of next weeks dinner too.\"\n\nPiglet darted out from the woods and sprinted down the road in unbridled terror. For sure that was some gigantic beast from the darkest depths of Hell, hungering to sink it's fangs into his supple back and rend chunks of flesh off into it's gaping maw. \"Slow down little one.\", the crow cawed reassuringly toward him. \"No need to be frightened, It's just a rabbit.\". \"Just a rabbit? I'm a hare, you rat-with-wings.\", the Hare retorted. Crow landed and sat atop a power-line and cackled loudly down at him. \"Remind me hare, do the wolves who are chasing you have wings?\". The hare spit in the direction of the crow and spoke. \"Piglet, why are you following this fool? Hes going to get you killed or worse. He doesn't know how dangerous it is for us on the ground\". \"I lost my family.\"Piglet said softly. \"When I woke up today they were all missing and this crow saw them get into a green truck.\". \"My mother Harriette warned me to never trust a crow, they're all tricksters and swindlers.\"cautioned the hare. \"I've seen those green trucks too. Since I'm headed that way I'll show you the safest route to get there.\"\n\nThe trio hastily cut through field and forest. Hare was the frontrunner. He bobbed through thickets and overgrown trails and carved out what he thought was a quick and secure path. Crow bounced from branch to branch, using his keen avian eyes to survey for predators. He called out to the others if he knew the upcoming area was safe and piglet bounded behind them. He moved with unwavering purpose toward his family.\n\nCrow had just given the all-clear signal and chuckled to himself as he watched the hare advance forward. The hare turned around a fallen tree and was snatched up in the talons of an awaiting owl. He let out a shrill squeak as his body was punctured and pulled off the ground by the giant bird. Piglet chased for as long as he could, until he lost sight of him and his gurgled screams slowly bled out as he was carried off into the forest. \"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but they do not come without their own terrors. He should have been more careful\". The crassness of the crows words frightened the piglet. He began to doubt the intent of his flying companion as he trudged along. \n\nAfter hours of trekking they arrived at the building. Per the crows advice, they watched from the woods as several green trucks arrived and departed from it, to make sure they had the right place. Piglet could taste how sweet the reunion would be when he found his family. He imagined how his mom would rush over and hug him, he thought about how proud his father would be of his gumption and steadfast determination to find them. They waited until the moment was right and they crossed the street. The crow had been paying special attention to the trucks and saw that there were dozens of pigs unloaded into the side of the building. \"From what I can gather piglet, your family was most likely unloaded into this area.\"As he pointed with his wings. \"I see they left the door open, they're probably right inside.\". \n\nPiglet was overjoyed. He oinked and squealed as he rushed up to the door. At long last, he would be with his family again, like on the farm which felt like a thousand miles away. The crow followed closely behind, hopping on the floor in happy form. He entered the building behind the piglet and flew up into the metal trussing near the ceiling. He perched and watched piglet. Piglet rushed in, and found his family suspended in the air with metal cuffs around their hooves. He cried out to his mother and father as they were dragged rhythmically down the line. They spotted and wailed to their piglet. They begged him to free them from the machine. Piglet frantically paced around trying desperately to stop the process. But piglet's attempts were for naught. He watched in abject horror as his mother and father were pulled further along. A pneumatic saw slid into place and moved cleanly along the throats of his parents. They roared in cacophonous unison as they died in a thrashing fury. Their yelling slowly replaced by the sound of choking on their own blood. \n\nPiglet stood in front of his dying parents, completely broken, and saw the life slowly drain from their once vibrant eyes. He could hear the sound of the crow laughing in the distance as he mourned his only family. A human quickly came into the room and spotted the piglet. \"How the fuck did you get out of the feeding pens?\"he exclaimed. He ran over and picked up the piglet who was completely unable to move. The human brought the piglet down a few flights of stairs and into the facility. He put the piglet in a cramped cage little bigger than his body next to thousands of other young pigs. He was injected with antibiotics and drugs to make him gain weight faster. He was force-fed a high calorie slurry of rotten vegetables and leftover slop.\n\nThe piglet's family had come from a nearby farm that was free range. After the sows and boars reached a certain age the farmer sold them to the sausage processing plant. The piglet had been mistaken for an escaped pig from their in-house breeding program. After that he never saw the light of day again. He spent the remaining years of his life in cramped agony waiting to die the same way his parents did. The End. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humanity is on its last rope. you are among a sea of the defeated. Get them back on their feet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Amidst the ruins of the once high and mighty human race, lied a select few souls that had been spared the cruel fate that inevitably awaited them. Bodies were strewn across the scenery, and the waters had been tinted crimson red. The once calming tide now brought in pain and brought out the moans of the injured and soon to be dead. \n\nThe invasion had been fast. Faster than anyone had possibly imagined. Nobody could have possibly predicted the horrific outcome of the battles that ensued. Mankind lost. Badly. 7 Billion gone in one day, and now just a legion of crude soldiers and civilians awaiting their fate, facing near certain oblivion to the hands of the extraterrestrial fiends. \n\nMore than anything they needed a leader, someone to bring them together and prepare them for the finale. To brace them for humanity's last cry. To comfort them till humanity's last breath. To stay with them until humanity's last whisper.\n \nAn unknown face climbed a pile of bodies that marked what had been a previous battle in the week of carnage. He quickly drew the attention of the crowd. Some whispered if he was going to jump off into the sea, ending his misery preemptively. Others were hopeful for some words of encouragement.\n\nSuddenly the man belted out at the top of his lungs, \"HUMANS!\"\n\nImmediately everyone rose their heads to look at the man. \n\nThe man continued, \"Look around you, look at the people around you and the buildings and monuments littered in our tiny bubble of culture. Does this not well up in you a sense of overwhelming pride? WE THE HUMAN RACE, THE TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN, THE MOST INTELLIGENT SPECIES... are facing defeat. Defeat at the hands of foreign scum, invaders that have tried to take away our pride as humans. Have we not faced adversity before? Have we not overcome to get this far? WE ARE SURVIVORS. And now on this damned plain of ruins. On humanity's last bastion, we face the enemy who think they can smell victory. Any resistance in their minds is incredulous and futile. BUT WE ARE SURVIVORS. They can tear us piece by piece, they can claw away at the foundations of our society. But they will NEVER... TAKE AWAY THE PRIDE THAT COMES WITH BEING A HUMAN. We will stand and we will FIGHT. WE WILL PUNCH AND WHEN OUR FISTS ARE BROKEN WE WILL KICK UNTIL OUR FEET ARE SHATTERED. AND WHEN OUR FEET ARE SHATTERED WE WILL BITE UNTIL OUR TEETH ARE DULL. We shall meet the bitter end in the middle and beg it for all it has for THAT is what our pride means to us. I hope none of you have abandoned that pride, and none of you have forgotten who we are. We are humans. That is what have been, that is what we are and that is what we will be to the very end. And we will survive.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Deep Ones mythologize and fear YHWH as much as if not more so than humans fear Cthulhu." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Deep Ones, feared by all mortals and transcendent beings alike, are the most feared beings in every universe. These abominable bulks, treated either as gods or devils, appearing in thousands of forms, toy with the affairs of each universe for their twisted ends, treating individual and event as unfortunate and sad pawns in their grand schemes. Toy with them, like some do, and you might get eaten like some of their followers, or mutilated for their pleasure.\n\nBut there is a Being much more powerful than they, Who might even be their Creator. The ancestors of the Hebrews were the first to know about Him, and they brought about His knowledge to the rest of the people who live on a certain world called, \"Earth\".\n\nHis Name, never to be disrespected by the laws of the Hebrews and their followers and successors, is known at best as \"YHWH\", or \"Adonai\", in respect to His authority.\n\nHis power, in His judgment and His love alike, is much more powerful than all the Deep Ones combined. Because of this, the Deep Ones fear Him, and hate Him for His resistance against their cruelty. To them, He is the Great Enemy, the \"Tyrant\", the \"Cruel Master\", as noted in the words of their corrupted, twisted followers.\n\nThis is why, and how, Earth and its pristine universe, became their target. They desire to penetrate into that specific universe, and destroy it, in as much time before Lord YHWH will decide to purge every universe in a final attempt to destroy evil.\n\nTo help His followers continue His original plan, and to combat and resist the attempts of the Deep Ones, His knowledge is to be shared to all beings. Those who serve Lord YHWH might be more likely to become a target for the Deep Ones, but they know, and believe rightfully, that He, and His spiritual servants, will help them, and He will certainly prevail in the end.\n\nBut even in this, the Deep Ones do not need to send so much monstrosities to the Earth; they had manipulated the minds of the Earthlings long enough, that they usually react with great hostility towards the wisdom of Lord YHWH.\n\nHis followers, in all of His pure wisdom and power, will be tested." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a comedic travel guide for New Yorkers vacationing in New England with helpful tips and local knowledge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**Official Travel Guide For New Yorkers In New England**\n\n**Helpful Tips**\n\n* Those from New England truly enjoy when Americans get drunk and make obnoxious impressions of a British accent.\n\n* Spend a lot of time downtown late at night, everyone is really friendly.\n\n* Always play Call Of Duty online, there will be no little 13 year olds who will call you a wanker and talk to you about your mother's sex life.\n\n* Fish and chips is slang for sex. **Example:** \"Do you want some fish and chips?\"\"Sure!\"*Proceeds to sexual intercourse*\n\n* Definitely take hundreds pictures with the flash on and block any sidewalk nearby while you're doing it. We love being held up by foreigners!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The meaning of life through an animal's eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My eyes drifted open lazily as sun peeked through the wall blankets. The noise machine was going off. That meant Dad was getting up soon. I let out a sigh leaving my head resting on my paws, glancing around the room. The people bed creaked above me as Dad's feet reached the ground. I watched him as he passed me at the foot of the people bed, making his way to the scary punishment room. The porcelain clinked as he sat down. That signaled the all-too-familiar pattering down the hallway. My kitty appeared in the doorway. She was making a bee-line right for him, so she could rub against his legs. Not today though! I rushed to my feet and ran over to the kitty. She froze, hunkering low to the ground. My tail wagged as a sniff the nape of her neck. She gingerly turns around and scuttles away, stopping in the doorway to turn around and give a meow of defeat. Dad is still looking at the light machine in his hands. He always looks at that thing in the scary room. I hear the water whishing in the bowl, and I think about how weird it is they do that inside. Dad walks over and pats my head making cooing noises. He grabs the wet blanket and turns on the.....bath *shudder*. I can't wrap my head around why he gets in that thing every day. It's like he's punishing himself, but he didn't chew up anything, chase the cat, or play in mud. People are so weird.\n\nAfterwards, Dad puts his wet blanket on the door. By this time, Mom is awake, she lays down on floor with me for a few minutes, then lets me outside to potty. I love outside in the mornings. Everything is so wet and fresh. I wonder if the dark brings out the new smells. After I do my business, I make my rounds to make sure there's no smell I haven't found. I can hear Mom calling my name, but I know she won't really mean it until she says it louder. If she says it too loud, Dad will hear, and he means business. I lazily make my way back inside. I lap some water out of my bowl, and trot back to the bedroom. Dad has put on his day blankets. I don't know why they do that either. It looks so uncomfortable. I guess it's because their coats are so short. \n\nDad walks down the hall and opens the food box. He pulls out some bowls and puts them in a bag. I always try to look as cute as I can, but it never works. He never gives me any. Dad tells me to sit, and gets a treat out of the treat bag. Sometimes I just get so focused that I forget to do what he says. \"Sit.\"He commands again. I go back on my haunches, my tail lightly grazing back and forth on the ground. He gives me the chicken jerky, and I go to my safe box to eat it. I get a drop in the pit of my stomach. He's already giving me my treat. That means they'll leave me soon. I distract myself with my treat. Mom is out of the bathroom and is putting on her day blankets. My ears perk up, and that's when I hear it. *WHOOSH WHOOSH WHIRRRR*\n\nI jump up and run down the hallway. Mom has the hot air machine out! I bound up to her, my tail is wagging expectedly. she turns it towards me, and I feel the beam of heat on my face. Today is the day! Today is the day I'm going to grab it. It feels so tangible, but it always manages to escape. My jaws clench around it, but as always, they clash together. I bite again and again. I let out a bark of frustration. Mom turns the air machine back to her. \"Tomorrow,\"I grumble to myself. Dad has walked into the bedroom, and comes up to Mom. They put their bodies and faces together. Dad says, \"Bah Habanas day.\"\n\n\"Oh no!\"I think. That means he's leaving. I follow him down the hallway, and I go into my safe box and lay down. He looks at me as he closes the door. I'm devastated. My life is over. The only thing I have left is Mom, but I know the inevitability in my life. I've unwillfully accepted my fate. I hear mom's foot covers clacking on the hard floor. She walks into the pantry when she comes out, I hear her pouring food into kitty's bowl. I don't know why they put her's in there too. All she does is eat mine and she's fat anyways. I feel like without me, this place would be chaos.\n\nMom comes over to my bowl, filling it with kibble, but how am I supposed to eat at a time like this. Soon, all there will be is the quiet. She bends down and scratches behind my ear. I wish they could understand me. How can they just leave. Don't they know packs are supposed to stick together? She opens the door, steps beyond it, and closes it behind her. I can hear her jinglees in the door and then silence. I hear her moving house backing down the hard ground. There is a void in my heart.\n\nI have somehow managed to distract myself with sleep and killing the squeaky animals Mom and Dad bring me from time to time. It's relieves the stress of being alone and alienated. They are gone from my life. Even their familiar scent is fading. How will I remember them soon? I drift into unconsciousness. \n\nMy ears perk up before I'm even awake. I look around anxiously, and I hear the moving house on the hard ground! I can't believe it. This has to be a trick! The noise stops, and I wait by the door. The jinglees are in the door! The handle turns, and it's Mom! She came back! I could literally jump out of my skin right now! She give me pets and strokes my coat. As things settle down, I hear it again; more noise on the hard ground! Just as before, the noise stops, the handle turns, and it's Dad! My pack is here! We are complete! He is excited to see me too! He pets my head and then wrestles with me. One day I'm going to win!\n\nAs the night winds down, I think to myself about what really matters. It's my pack, my family. I could have all the bones and furry, squeaky things in the world, but without my pack, it would count for nothing. I go to sleep satisfied trying not to think of tomorrow when the cycle will repeat." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An elderly man builds a device that realizes any wish you make. Why does he hate it?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old man slid into the seat across from and without a word slid a small box across the table to me. Glancing up at his face I couldn't help but do a double take. This was the jovial old man I had hired? The one who, with laughter in his eyes, had boasted he could make or invent anything I could possibly imagine and give life to my very dreams? I could only sit there in stunned silence as this man glared at me, naked hatred and disgust evident in his eyes. What had I done to wrong this man?\n\n\"I hope you're happy.\"He all but snarled at me, his lips twisting in a sneer. \"This infernal device is the most evil thing I have ever created!\"\n\nI was of course stunned, how could this be? I hadn't truly believed he could do what I had hired him for, but surely what I had asked was not evil in and of itself? I demanded to know how the device I requested could be inherently evil from the start! I did not request such a device.\n\n\"You fool! In order to make this demonic machine it took the life, the very soul of my precious granddaughter! Every time this machine is used it will steal the future of someone else, often a child. You have made me a murderer and complicit in the murder of what is surely to be thousands more! I hope you rot in hell!\"\n\nThe sheer vitriol in his words stunned me. He had killed his own granddaughter? It would steal the future of an innocent person every time a wish was made? As I struggled with the terrible implications of this device the old man across from me burst into tears, sobbing into his hands. He knew as surely as I did, whether or not I used the device somehow word would get out about it. There were those in this world who would stop at nothing to see their dreams come true, even the murder of innocents.\n\nShould I destroy the device? No, that was a short term solution. As long as the old man lived someone would just get him to make another. Kill the old man? Perhaps... surely as he had murdered his own granddaughter in his mad desire to create the impossible he deserved death but... no. That wasn't the answer either. I could draw only one conclusion as I watched this pathetic old man weep in sorrow for innocence lost.\n\nI opened the device, taking the box in my own hands. It felt warm to the touch and strangely light for bearing the weight of so many innocent souls. Silently I made a wish...\n\nThe old man looked up, confused. There was an empty box on the table in front of him and a half empty cup of coffee. Strangely his face was wet with tears but for the life of him he could not remember what it was he was doing here. Slowly he got up from the table where he sat alone and began to make his way home.\n\nAfter all, it was his granddaughter's birthday and he wouldn't miss it for the world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In WWII an RAF fighter pilot chased a German bomber out over the English channel. After downing the plane he realised he didnt have enough fuel to go home and was going to crash into the sea. Write about those last few minutes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He told himself that he served crown and country as best he could, kept a stiff upper lip, and all of that. His mind knew the fate in store for him, and being an agile, adaptable, and capable pilot, he carried on. He tapped the fuel gauge of his Spitfire. What a noble steed! A noble steed with not enough fuel to carry him home. 37 gallons of precious fuel, and they were all but gone.\n\nHe never regretted leaving Oxford. The medicine he studied, as his father did, was a bore to him. He loved the RAF and flying. In the heat of battle, and the excitement of the small victory he gained by downing a Nazi, he lost all concern for something as trivial as fuel. \n\nThe RAF training he endured, and the conditioning of British culture could not prepare him for the moment he now faced alone in the cockpit, with a fate that was certain, and certainly imminent. The stiff upper lip quivered for a brief second. He allowed himself a tear or two, then it was back to business. He rolled the Spitfire from side to side and back to true. If there was fuel in that tank, he wanted it all! \n\nHe thought about his mother. He had always found much comfort in her. She always wrote to him, and she always worried. She protested him leaving Oxford at the first opportunity, but she knew his determination. She was a doctor's wife, and he was her only son. She was proud to look after him then, and now. She sent care packages when she could. \n\nSometimes the good doctor was unpaid for his services, and other times he was paid with eggs, cheese, potatoes, and on occasion, Irish whiskey, which would find its way into the care packages sent to the good doctor's son. The doctor didn't mind with the war on. \n\nThe Spitfire sputtered. The fuel gauge was tapped again in disbelief. He said to himself, \"37 gallons!\"The pilot instinctively reached for the cigarettes in his upper coat pocket. They were not there. \n\nHe met a young woman at the RAF base just today. He was smoking a cigarette outside when she stormed towards him. \"Do you have a cigarette you could spare?\"He held up the Woodbine he was puffing on. He said, \"My last, or I'd give you one.\"He was shocked at her boldness when she snatched that Woodbine out of his hand and drew deep and long on it. \n\nShe introduced herself as, \"Evelyn Neame, WAAF analyst!\"She was lovely, and she told him that she interpreted aerial reconnaissance photographs taken by British spy planes. He watched her pink, pouty lips as she talked. With zero hesitancy, he was about to ask her on a date when the sirens called him to duty. With the same lack of hesitancy, he bolted towards the runway. \n\nThe Spitfire's engine sputtered again. He rolled the plane side to side and back to true. He remembered the flask he had in his lower coat pocket. He ceremoniously poured the Irish Whiskey into his mouth. The burn in his throat rolled all the way down to his gut. He toasted the setting sun that led him back towards England; towards home that he would never see again.\n\nThe Spitfire sputtered its last breath, then his noble steed, it went silent. The only noise was the wind being cut by his wings. He thanked his mother and father for the life they gave him, and the Irish Whiskey he emptied from the flask. If there was fuel in the tank he wanted it all!\n\nHe remembered the girl he had just met before taking off on this mission. He closed his eyes. He thought about those pink, pouty lips as the smoke from his last Woodbine danced and lingered in her open mouth. He wanted to kiss her. \"Evelyn\"was the last word on his mouth and the last thought that ran through his mind.\n" } ]