Datasets:

Nitral-AI

/

Reddit-SFW-Writing_Prompts_ShareGPT

like 1

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Something wicked invades the lands of sleep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It prowls along the edge of the field, patient, menacing. Its scent masked by the sheepskin covering its dark fur, the occupants of the field notice nothing amiss.\n\nThe predator stalks closer.\n\nSuddenly the sheepdog races by, barking. The creature stills, trying desperately to blend in with the scenery. Fortunately, the sheepdog is suitably stupid, and passes the poorly disguised canine without a glance. This is, after all, a cartoon.\n\nThe Coyote resumes his hunt.\n\nHe makes his way into the midst of the flock, his mind not yet made concerning the subject of which creature it will be that will become his dinner. Or is it lunch? The sun hasn't moved in a while, strangely enough. Oh, right - cartoon.\n\nCoyote weaves through the flock, admiring the offerings. Perhaps that nice plump one over by the fence? Hmm, that large one standing by itself seems a much better choice. Why not both? No, he can't afford to get greedy.\n\nHe takes a single step toward his chosen meal-on-hooves. The ground dissolves beneath his feet, sending him plummeting into a pit-trap. What? How did the-? Right. Cartoon. He kept forgetting that.\n\nAs the net wrapped around him, he mourned his place in life. The villain of a cartoon never got any breaks. Reluctantly, Coyote pulled out his sign from who-knows-where and held it up for the audience.\n\n'Ouch,' it read, though what he really wanted to write on it was, 'Life's not fair, kids. The sooner you accept that the sooner you'll stop being disappointed.'\n\nThe screen shrunk around him. The credits began to roll. He knew nothing.\n\nEDIT - thought the prompt said 'Something wicked invades the land of sheep.'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write about the last days of an old family cat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "___Whiskers was an old cat, fat and spoiled more than the pets of royalty. He had a bed he never once used, a couch that he elected as a scratching post, and an old box that he would hide in. He was loved my mother, her only companion since my father died, he didn't like me very much but he was very affectionate towards her. He loved gourmet, expensive food and wouldn't eat the dry kibble, he would knock over glasses, and at night he yowled like he was possessed by the devil. But old mom loved him, and he wasn't that bad for the most part. The few times he actually let me pet him without running away, he never once scratched me, nor did he ever hiss. He seemed more shy than anything else, and I began to empathize with him as I entered my gangly adolescence. I was often to myself, and as skittish as that fat cat my mom loved. \n\n___Adolescence was an odd time; I never had any friends, and would always be the black sheep when we were forced to do group work. One summer, I believe I was 15, I noticed that Whiskers was no where to be found, I looked outside and he was on the fence in the back yard. I went to go get him but he ran off, so I followed him into the small wood that was behind my house. I followed deeper and deeper until whiskers stopped at a little creek i didn't know existed. It filled with small fish and tadpoles, which whiskers tried to catch. I went back to that spot several times, sometimes with whiskers, sometimes alone. I would sit and read, sometimes I would try my and at sketching my surroundings, but I never got very good at it. I was still in solitude but I felt in the fat cat my mother loved I found something like a friend.\nI would sometimes confide in him, a silly practice but something that helped me. I talked of a girl I liked, her name was Cindy and she wasn't aware of my existence even though I sat behind her in our history class. I talked of bullies, of my success in the exams of the previous school year, and many other unimportant things that seemed so important then.\n\n___At the end of summer, Whiskers was gone, my mother was inconsolable after three days of his absence. She looked around the neighborhood, posted pictures, even went door-to-door in the surrounding neighborhoods. I didn't tell her about mine and whiskers retreat because, I think he might of liked it there more out there than stuffed inside all day. Whiskers became a memory to both me and my mom, she got a new tabby called princess a year later, I moved out and went to college when I was old enough. But I still have a memento of my old fat feline friend, the small straight razor that belonged to my father.\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You discover that you have a split personality that is trying to take over." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hello, James.\"The smiling man in the mirror says to me. \"What's wrong, not happy to see me?\"How could I be, this thing, although he has called himself Mark, has been taking over my life. Destroying everything I had worked for, kept me away from her.\n\n\"Really, James. Its not like you would have gotten her anyway.\"\n\n\"I love Meghan, why do you have to fight me?\"I found myself saying back, at first I thought if I could be silent and ignore him I would go unnoticed myself. \n\nIt didnt work.\n\n\"We both know the answer to that, James.\"He replied calmly, without breaking his sad, no, apologetic smile. \"You miscalculated, my love is more powerful. I am more powerful.\"He was being a tad melodramatic, I laughed.\n\n\"Mark, just give up. You dont win in this, I do. Your little crush on Sarah is nothing, you dont even exist to her.\"As I said this my vision blurred and I became light headed. When I came to my senses I was looking out from a mirror at Mark. His smile still hanging from his face, as if wishing to drop into a frown.\n\n\"I am sorry, James. Truly I am, but I was here first. You cannot take from me what is mine and that is my life.\"For the first time in Mark's voice I heard courage, his fears and doubts had been my birth. \n\n\"I should be in control, I am more confident than you will ever be.\"I shouted as my vision started closing into blackness.\n\n\"No,\"Mark said. \"No you were reckless, and it cost you. Your little gambit this past year has failed. You took control but couldnt keep it.\"He paused, adjusting his collar and tie, \"We could have been friends, you and I. Worked together but, well. Your made your choice.\"\n\nI smashed, shattering it and my last window to the world. I screamed at Mark for stealing my victory, my love. It all could have been mine if I weren't... \n\n\"Reckless, James. I am no longer a coward, did you know that?\"He mused, his voice echoing through the closing dark. \"Im going to show you what real confidence is,\"I heard the sound of a phone dialing and I knew I had lost. \"Hello, Sarah. Its me, Mark. Yeah. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to...\"\n\nI never heard the last of what he said to her. In the small circle of consciousness I saw Meghan. I cried as her image faded but most of all I cried because... Because I was happy for Mark. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "All the bells on Earth start ringing at the same time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can't remember a time when the bells weren't ringing. I can't remember a time when every breath wasn't screaming warning, warning, warning. I can't remember silence anymore.\n\nThe sky is a bright autumnal blue, the air crisp and cold and bright. But ringing loud and clear through the sunshine come the chimes. Loud noises have always come before danger. We've always known that riding at the vanguard of every tragedy will be a ringing. Down long ages the sirens have howled before fire, before wind and death and destruction.\n\nAnd here we are in the chiming world, where throbbing in the sky and pulsing through the ground comes a warning of danger danger danger on its way. \n\nAnd yet here I sit in the relentless ringing, wondering what's set the world's siren sounding and I can see nothing coming. Rising like a tangible pressure, fueled by the bells, is fear. Fear of what's coming. Fear of the unknown, fear that whatever is stirring malevolently towards us comes from the gulfs beyond our knowledge. But most of all now, after so much time, fear that the bells are chiming for nothing. And still the fear builds.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Two superheroes meet and mistake each other for villains." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Excuse the bad superhero names, I just used a generator since I couldn't think of any lol. \n\n***\n\n“Halt!” The booming voice almost deafens her as she shrugs off the building’s rubble. It stops her from searching for her nemesis in surprise. \n\n“What?” She blinks up at the man dressed in blue and black before scowling. This was obviously another attempt to kill her, some henchman of that evil bastard. “Oh, and how much did he pay you to stop me?” \n\n“No one has to pay me anything.” The man announces and begins to suck in a breath, starting to speak a little again. She grumbles a bit, sparing a glance to see a sewer drain clanging closed. She’d lost him, yet again, but this foe could be just as dangerous to the populace. \n\n“Gotcha, rise of evil, blah blah blah.” She mutters and uses her superfast movement to knock him off-balance and against a wall, wincing a little at the bruising she takes from it. “You’re tougher than his normal lackeys, Big-mouth.” \n\n“I am no lackey!” The shout deafens her and sends her flying off her feet and she rolls across the ground. Rubbing at her ears, she quickly begins to activate her telekinesis once again, body strongly tensed. \n\n“So you work with him then!” She thrusts her arm forward, catching him by surprise and sending him grinding up the side of the building. Maybe this would be fortuitous if he worked directly with the evil Shade. She follows after him, eyes glowing brightly as she dodges a couple of falling bricks. \n\n“What heresy, villainess!” The sonic shout almost sends her off-balance before a few splashes of dagger-like energy slice through her side and shoulder. \n\n“Heresy? What are you on about, Big-mouth?” She tentatively floats above the top of the building, dodging out of the way of another toss of energy. “And I ain’t no villain.” There’s a short silence during which they eye each other. \n\n“You blew the building up.” He accuses, energy appearing as he attempts to strike her with it again, making her dodge again. \n\n“Pft. Did not. I evacuated it first before The Shade blew it up.” She lifts a few bricks with her telekinetic ability and sends them speeding towards the man, seeming to be feeling his abilities out. \n\n“You know The Shade?” He questions and she laughs bitterly. \n\n“He destroyed my life. I will have him see justice.” As he seems to relax, she carefully floats down to land on the rooftop but keeps distance between the two of them. The man places a fist to his chest, standing taller and prouder. \n\n“I am Soniscream. I seek to destroy all evil in the world.” There’s a short pause before she laughs softly. \n\n“I’m Neuroia. I can’t believe that I’ve been fighting another hero.” She laughs a bit more and Soniscream frowns at her. \n\n“Another hero? You mean to say that you truly are not a villain?” \n\n“Of course not.” Neuroia states with another chuckle. “Like I said. I’m working to stop him.” She pauses a while. “He still thinks we’re at odds considering you stopped me from grabbing him before he could escape.” There’s a short pause. \n\n“I apologize.” Soniscream gives a small nod towards her and she nods, stretching a little. \n\n“Well then. You owe me.” She smiles, showing bright, white teeth. “You’re going to help me grab him. It’s in your mission protocol after all.” \n\n“I suppose that would be sufficient.” He’s still frowning as he agrees and she can only grin bigger. The Shade was in for a surprise when they next crossed paths and she’d get revenge. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a High Fantasy World, one clueless main character was destined to save the world and become king, before dying in a freak accident. The Fellowship decides to hold an election to fill the vacancy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well fellow fellows, Hubert the indestructible died in a freak cake accident today and has left his place as the bearer of the pants of truth empty.\"Gandledore the slightly tan informed the others.\n\n\"How can this be?\"Standard fantasy setting dwarf number 4 protested. \"Hubert was a strong knockoff hobbit. How could he die?\"\n\n\"The details are still coming in.\"Suspiciously evil looking good guy responded. \"What we know for sure is we need somebody to carry the pants of truth back to the store where they we bought them from and get our money back. Maybe get a nice ring or something.\"\n\n\"Why do we have to carry them?\"Standard fantasy setting dwarf number 2 asked. \"Surely it would be easier just to wear them on the journey.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\"Standard fantasy setting dwarf number 3 responded. \"There is far too much power in those pants!\"\n\n\"Enough from the dwarves!\"Shouted the elf that's in the movie to appeal to the female audience. \"We must all carry these pants together or we shall never prevail!\"\n\n\"How can almost a dozen people carry one set of pants?\"Asked standard fantasy setting dwarf number one. \"Isn't it tradition for one person to carry the magical item?\"\n\n\"Precisely why we are here.\"Gandledore said, once again taking the floor. \"Hubert was the only one strong enough from this genre strong enough to carry the pants of truth.\"\n\n\"What's a genre?\"Asked standard fantasy setting dwarf number four.\n\n\"Silence!\"Gandledore shouted. \"Like I said. He was the only one strong enough from this genre, so we will have to call in a protagonist from a different genre. I'll let him introduce himself.\"\n\nA seven foot tall man in green powered armor walked forward. He picked up a magical staff from Gandledore and a broadsword from suspiciously evil looking good guy. It was time to finish this fight.\n\nTL:DR: When the fellowship fails, call in the master chief.\n\nOff topic-There have been a lot of great prompts today! Keep'em coming!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a person with \"early onset schizophrenia\". Through a vision the truth is revealed to you that you're not crazy, but that everyone else cant see what you and other \"Seers\"can. As the last member of the Seers to be born, you are locked away in a hospital in need of escape." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My earliest years had been wonderful. I had been a leader amongst my elementary school peers; fearless and accepting. I remember being dubbed 'the smartest kid in my grade' early and carrying the title through to the fifth grade. One time I was picked to go to a special creative writing group instead of participate in my normal class reading time; The lady who taught the group apparently had told my parents I would grow up to be a famous author. People told me I was special. And no, not just my mother.\n\nPuberty wasn't fun. I was a late bloomer and my virtues of acceptance and creativity seemed to take the backseat to mean spirited bullying. We had all gotten along so amazingly in fifth grade, and just one year later we were divided by some strange reality that wasn't ours, and I, a leader within obsolete old paradigm of innocence had become an outcast.\n\nI'll save you my sob story, but yeah, middle school and high school were awful.\n \nI lost myself. I became something I wasn't. I felt like shit about myself, no matter how hard I tried to fit in I could never find my place. I didn't know what was wrong with me.\n\nThen the dreams started.\n\nAt first they were just really vivid, I mean like REALLY vivid. Like I remember this one time a whole crazy pattern of different colored ants covered the earth and suddenly it started to 'fold' over on itself.. it's hard to explain but the point was it was a pretty crazy spectacle. I continued having spectacular dreams like this for months, eventually it came to the point where I was hanging on all day, consumed in my battle with a suicidal depression, anxiously awaiting to see what adventure awaited me that night. The dreams started changing then.\n\n\nBefore they had simply been wild and beautiful but not meaningful in the slightest, but all of the sudden every single one seemed to be screaming at me. I still remember the first one like it really happened, like it was yesterday; In the dream a high-school bully of mine, James Patterson, was pushing me into the locker and screaming at me, at least it looked like he was screaming. Really, the only sound that came out of his mouth was the voice of a child, of HIS voice when HE was a child. It was a bizarre sight, him pushing me into the locker, furrowed eyebrow and yelling in apparent rage, but the only words coming from his mouth was a child's apology, apologizing for what he had become and wishing we could go back to elementary school. I read in the paper two days later James Patterson commit suicide.\n\nMore dreams like this. Every night, people I knew would come to me crying and begging for help, revealing personal issues they were having and how alone they were in dealing with their demons. At one point my mother came to me. She was sobbing violently, but through her choking she managed to tell me the cause; Dad had cheated on her.\n\nI didn't jump to conclusions, maybe it was just a dream. I confronted my mom carefully on the topic and sadly discovered my dream had indeed been truthful. She ended up crying and hugging me for like 30 minutes and at the end of it thanks me for letting her get it off of her chest. I had provided some sort of emotional healing for her. That's when it dawned on me, I was a healer.\n\nNow when I say 'it dawned on me' what I really mean is that's when I realized what I had always known... yet a part of me didn't believe me. I had been so low previously, so hurt and warped from my years of abuse; there is no switch you can flick that turns you from being what I had become into 'oh yeah i'm some sort of psychic shaman healer dude.' Yet destiny called, and I had no other way to go.\n\nI kept a notepad next to my bed and recorded the people that would come to me and what their issue was. One by one I went to those who visited my dream and confronted them. It didn't work out quite the way I had with my mom. Denial, accusations of spying, once I was even threatened due to the embarrassment caused that I knew of their affliction. Then the nightmares started.\n\nDemons attacking me. Dark primal energies torturing me every night; I was forced to watch myself commit foul sexual acts, hurt people and yeah.. it wasn't pretty. I was trapped. It was obvious to me that I was being attacked due to people closing themselves to my healing, but that was the only thing that was obvious to me. My mind began to deteriorate as the night terrors began to creep into my waking life. I started taking antidepressants and soon after anti-psychotics. At first these pills seemed to offer me a bit of clarity and room to think but eventually the levee broke and no modern medicine could stop the onslaught of psychic sludge.\n\nNow I'm here, locked away, pitied and forgotten. I don't remember what I did to be put in here, but the night terrors are stronger than ever and growing more potent every night. I need to escape, there has to be someone; Some shaman out there somewhere who can help me come to terms with my abilities.\n\nPART 2 Coming eventually..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In various hospitals around the world, several doctors participating in a clandestine experiment, pump dying and near-death patients with an experimental drug." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is the confession of Dr Henry Finkle. I write to both apologise to the people I have hurt and to explain why I took the actions which have le me to this moment. \n\nI'd like to start by saying that I was not always this way, I did not always seek power and attention. In College I was a pretty normal undergrad, I did my time, studied hard and when I got into Medical school I buckled down, worked hard and soon found myself near the top of my class. \n\nIt was in my last year that I first was approached by Omnicron Corp. At that time research was the last thing on my mind, emergency medicine was my preferred route and I was planning to spend time with Médecins Sans Frontières before applying for residencies at John Hopkins, the Cleveland Clinic or Massachusetts General. \n\nThe man who approached me was Bill Furthers, the head of their Biogenetics division and when I first met him I assumed he was another student he looked so young. It was later I found out that he was nearly 50 when we first met but that was due to not just good genes, but a little help from Omnicron. \n\nHe told me that he understood why I wanted to be an emergency physician, that a doctor as good as me could save thousands of lives but that the work I would do for him I would save millions. I'd still be seeing patients but now I would be at the cutting edge. Honestly I was still unconvinced but when he showed me my starting salary...well, I was pretty much sold. Student loans? Gone in a year and in actual fact I had a really good second month there and Omnicron paid them off on the side. \n\nThat was the thing, sure, later I found out they were evil but it was the little things. The free coffee, and damn was it good. The great canteen food and personal shoppers who would leave you things that they thought you'd like and the company would pay. It just made you feel... wanted I guess. \n\nMy first post lasted three months. I was in San Antonio helping perfect a technique to graft skin onto faces, it was only later that I wondered who had cut the skin off and who these people were. I never met them awake, they told me that it was all part of the specialist plan but it was strange. Still I was suddenly extremely wealthy and it helped sooth a lot of my questions. \n\nNext I was in New York and for nearly a year I and my team wrestled with bio genetic manipulation, getting skin, organs and whole organisms to change and mutate to new DNA and then have that replace the existing DNA and transform the creature. It took a year but by the end we had a hedgehog who turned into a rabbit and retained memories - it was a miracle. \n\nOf course we wanted to publish but everything we did Omnicron owned. We had nothing. We accepted it, it was the job and after all, our work was going to change the world, we'd be remembered when the Nobels were being handed out, we were pretty sure. \n\nWhen Bill approached me again, this time it was as a friend and trusted colleague. I was a rising star and he was a senior figure who had projects that just weren't making enough progress and he asked for me help. Of course I said yes. \n\nNew York and San Antonio were a long was from South Sudan but strangely for me, it wasn't that different. The compound was so similar to where we had worked before and we spend almost all our time indoors that we forgot sometimes, so consumed in our work were we. \n\nThe compound we were testing was a stage 3 drug, meant to combat rare genetic disorders and rewrite part of the code to normal and we were here as this part of the world had a rare and high incidence of this disorder. At least that's what I wanted to believe. Did I really believe it? I don't know now. \n\nThursday 4th July Independence Day but for us, another day in the lab. that was the day we had our first liqudator. The patient had been unstable and at 11am he began to bleed. Nothing stopped it and so we pumped him full of blood and plasma and tried to stabilise. Over the course of 3 minutes his tissues melted in front of our eyes and he turned to a red puddle of goo. That was also the first time I had gone through grade 1 decontamination. \n\nAt grade 1 they don't just clean you outside but inside too. I was scrubbed, cleaned, had things inserted into every orifice and ended up cleaner than any person has a right to be. It shook up the whole team but we had patients and so we continued, more carefully but we continued. \n\nThe next day we lost two. By now we had them in major containment so it was easier to clean up but more puzzling. By the end of day 2 we finally had the blood work back on patient zero and it was grim reading, the compound unravelled every cell in his body and worst of all it had every indication that it could be passed on. I called Bill and requested quarantine immediately and we shut down. He arrived and I passed over all samples, all research and then I saw it. He smiled. \n\nI was angry as he explained it, their search for the perfect weapon and now they had it. It had taken other teams years to genetically engineer the compound and I was just the last patsy, a trained monkey to assess their chemicals and make sure they were as horrific as they thought. \n\nIt was stable enough to be sprayed from a can or dropped in a bomb, it spread from person to person but possible to vaccinate against. I am responsible, not for the work I did but for that moment. The moment I knew and did not kill Bill where he stood. \n\nNow, we are all fucked and I am sorry. I had my moment and I blew it. Now I have killed everyone. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man is sentenced to prison for a ridiculous number of years for committing a horrible crime (200, 500, something like that). Nobody else knows that he's immortal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Im not sure if im glad no one suspected about the sentence, its been 27 years now, a military ocupation happened and the prisions filled, guards turned into soldiers. For a while there wasnt a serious administration of records but once the regime stablished officials tried to find decertors, spies, refugees, immigrants and rebels; many heads rolled. According to the soldiers that interrogated me years before when they first saw my file they thought it was forged by an idiot who couldt get dates straight 45 years had passed since my sentence and i look 30. Thirty, shaven, washed and feed, at first there were threats of torture but back in the day when they where ordered to keep records of new prisioners the soldiers joked \"Fokanyhuska the brainless bastard pig, born in 1632 febreuary 31, etc.\"in top of that some resources where sacarce so the official documents where reused removing previous names from deseased inmates, besides it was a way to offend their captive compatriots. They knew this, so did i, in hopes of some breaking under the preassure, i didnt, but i wasnt going anywhere i was born in the wrong country or so it said.\nBut i dont loose sleep over that, i can sit across a wall watching time pass as a heavy drop of water forming puddles only to wake up the next day to see a dry spot as if it never was there, but after a long time it leaves its mark, i keep asking me the same questions over and over again, so very strange that i feel better inprisioned not having to be outside bearing the same, why? Dont lie to yourself you know why.\nRats with names, stones with faces and my nuckles bleeding.\nDreams with remorse, trachery and some nights i sleep in fear and i cant find the reason why... Are they gone?\n62 years, i had to do some awful things in order to get get away from that prision, a few deeds here and there, a few eyes closed by force and some favors are paid, back again to year one, i feel no penitence for them.\n23 years, i been feeling this for a time now and it troubles more than anything, when i think about her i dont feel anynthing anymore all that i was is gone, the things i had, who i thought i was, the limits i thought id would never break, and the infamy, maybe i am that monster, i dont feel guilty, that is what worries me i dont feel shit could it be that ive forgotten her?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "We have come to realize that \"Black Friday\"is the way we summon the demon lord Santa Claus. Describe the ritual." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wait, did you bring the coal?\"\n\nEvery time, Jon---sorry, Xanthar, Second Acolyte of Rudolf---thought. Becky---shit, Bezlethus, the First Acolyte---always forgot the goddamned coal. How hard is it? You can buy it at Walgreen's for chrissake.\n\n\"Be--zlethus, did you forget the coal?\"\n\nVacant eyes, hypnotized by the mere thought of burnt gingerbread, candy cane, and reindeer marrow, were suddenly interrupted from their reverie. Bezlethus, wearing red leather and an oddly mismatched white fur-edged hood, gazed lazily at Xanthar.\n\n\"Weren't you supposed to get it Xanthar? I had work.\"\n\nXanthar sighed. \"You don't work. You volunteer. And once we raise the Unholy Father Klaus, I doubt the kids at the oncology ward will matter. They'll be judged naughty along with everyone else.\"\n\nBezlethus angrily threw her last candy cane into the open-faced, abandoned fireplace, which seemed even more abandoned without coals and a fire. \"I've said it before and I'll say it again. Those. Kids. Need. Me.\"\n\nXanthar lost his cool, but sadly for the ritual, not in the more literal way, which would have rendered the whole \"lack of coal\"thing a non-issue.\n\n\"Godammit Becky, you always do this. EVERY TIME. I thought you really believed in Santa the Hellbringer. I thought that mattered to you. But clearly those kids matter more than spreading the righteous judgement of the Evil Listmaker. You know what? We're over. This is over. Klaus can come on his own accord.\"\n\nXanthar---now Jon again, left the broken, abandoned fireplace, disappearing into the darkness of the surrounding wood. Bezlethus, turned Becky once more, removed her hood and stared at the blackness of the wood that once held the shape of Jon.\n\nTears formed on the edge of her cool blue irises, and escaped the acute corners of her eyes. They dropped onto the open pile of debris that she had painstakingly assembled for Santa and Jon...but really, for Jon. Her heart was torn asunder. The dark forest reflected her mood, and as her watch hit midnight, she collapsed in a state of empty sadness.\n\n...without warning, the detritus in the open fireplace was aflame. No, not aflame. Burning with the passion of loss, of gifts not given, of hell itself. A red smoke consumed Becky and seemed to form the vague outline of a chimney above the fire, and faint echoes of schoolyard rhymes were mixed with sounds more evil.\n\nSanta, in full regalia, red suit aflame amongst redder eyes and pure-sterile-white beard, emerged.\n\nHe stared at Becky, fully assessing her, understanding her, KNOWING her. He knew everything about her, and Jon, and her irreparable heart.\n\nHe laughed and took on that hateful, infamous grin.\n\n\"...SOMEONE'S BEEN NAUGHTY, HAVEN'T THEY?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A different kind of prompt: A template. Write a story that uses or is based on this formula: \"(deity) has (verb) the (noun).\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Death has walked these hills many times.\n\nThe first men walked over them, falling prey to many deaths. When they made their civilization here, he walked them to collect them when disease killed them.\n\nHe walked over them when territorial disputes led to conflict. He walked over them when small battles became war, when spearheads turned from stone to bronze to iron. \n\nHe walked them when invaders came. He walked them as the world learned of gunpowder, and flight, and explosives. \n\nAnd he will walk them until the world ends." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Instead of presidential elections, the leaders of your city are appointed by a fight to the death." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well Jeremy it certainly is shaping up to be an interesting Election this year!\"\n\n\"Yes it is Sarah, and just look at our Candidates! On the Republican side we've got Dick Montgomery, who fought his way past Ralph Winchester and Seymore Tick to get in the finals!\"\n\n\"And who can forget that beautiful finisher Dick pulled on Seymore! Grabbing a chihuahua from the crowd and shoving it down poor Tick's throat.\"\n\n\"All while using his sharpened sternum as a toothpick! Gotta give something for the kids at home to look up to, and Dick certainly has it. I believe this year is looking good for the Republicans Sarah!\"\n\n\"Right you are Jeremy! Dick is stepping into the ring now! He's a crowd favorite you know, kissing babies and the like.\"\n\n\"And not too shabby with the PACs. Why, Dick has been raising hell on the battlefield and off. I didn't even know it was possible to bribe that many corporations after the whole deal with Comcast and Romney. You really gotta hand it to Dick, he sure knows how to handle himself!\"\n\n\"Jeremy! There are kids listening.\"\n\n\"I know, I know, I couldn't help myself. Oh! Here comes the Democrat candidate, Ralphie Diegoooo!\"\n\n\"Jeremy, did you see that suit of armor Ralphie is wearing?\"\n\n\"Yes Sarah I do. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is it made out of the spines of his previous opponents?\"\n\n\"Yes Jeremy, though I'm surprised they had spines to begin with. Ralphie sure looks intimidating either way. Let's here what the crowd has to say.\"\n\n*ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS*\n\n\"Stop the mics! Can't have kids hearing that! Oh man Jeremy, it looks like Ralphie is not a favorite. Though, to be frank, this crowd needs to switch up its chant.\"\n\n\"Right you are Sarah. It's too easy to call the Democrats uh, butts, when their mascot is a Donkey.\"\n\n\"Simply poor taste Jeremy. Ralphie is still strutting around. Are you aware of how much brown-nosing he did to get into this tournament?\"\n\n\"I heard he made a special deal with Goldman-Sachs, but your guess is as good as mine.\"\n\n\"No guesses Jeremy. I won't share it with you on live television, but lets just say there's a lot of sacks in that company and Ralphie's had his hand in all of them.\"\n\n\"I have no comment.\"\n\n*DING DING DING*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans were mindless and savage zombies since creation. However we were infected by a virus (passed through our genes) in ancient times which lead to our evolution and development. The latest cure to cancer is killing off this virus within us. (Reverse zombification)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*3:10 AM*\n\nI suppose this is the natural progression. Or \"regression\". But thats semantics.\n\nThis will be my last entry. Its tuesday? I think? Maybe its Wednesday. If it is indeed Tuesday, then its the 25th of May. \n\nThey got in last night... Most of the first floor was leveled. I sealed the stairways and shut the elevator power down after I reached floor 4.\n\nI could see her. Her face, now pale and lifeless, was still as beautiful as the day she suggested we hole up in the hotel she was now destroying.\n\nI guess. I guess it got to me. I was slow on my reflexes. I have been bit.\n\nI know the fever was supposed to be bad, but goddamn, is my head on fire.\n\n\n*4:39 AM*\n\nWell, I'm still here. Robert always theorized that our conscience is just another evolutionary tactic, developed by a creature desperate for survival, no different than wings with birds or tortoises with shells. \n\n\n\nI Have the rest of this story saved, will post tomorrow, hopefully." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It has been recently discovered that trees can, in fact, move." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Until Merle Fitzwell reported seeing a small Catalpa tree driving down I-35, north of Round Rock, Texas.\n\nThe tree was driving a red '68 Buick Riviera convertible. \n\nMerle said he came upon the Riviera and thought the driver was hauling a tree. Kind of weird, but, hey, probably some leftist greenie from Austin, right?\n\nWell, as he passed the Riviera, he looked over to see what kind of weirdo would haul a tree like this in the car, he was shocked, gobsmacked actually, to see it was the fucking Catalpa driving.\n\nHe stared hard, eyes popping in disbelief, when suddenly the little Catalpa turned to look at him and blew a kiss.\n\nWTF, not just a friggin' tree driving but a kiss-blowing sexually amorphodite on top of it.\n\nMerle sent the report out on Twitter from a bar in north Austin, where he'd stopped to regain his worldview." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man is stranded, alone, in a remote bathroom and he has run out of toilet paper. Years go by before rescue arrives." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Day 1993. \nI have lost all feeling in my legs. For the past few days there came and went passing tingles, although it hasn't been since day 1863 that I could move any part of my legs. As I sit in this 2 foot by 3 foot stall for the one thousand nine hundred and ninety third day I wonder if I could have done it, if I could have made myself leave, but the fear sat heavy. And after all, it does not help to linger on events we cannot change. Most people could not help but think of what they should have done when it was possible after it becomes impossible. That is life, we live in wait for the right time to do to what is important to us until the day we die. But that is not me, I persist, and my spirits are as I am an individual with great prospects. Indeed that is the type of person it takes to simply consider entering this pit I am now in. Indeed I recall entering this stall. \n\nIt was the final day of my mission and I was the appointed to board to leave at 0600. As my domicile was the furthest from the dock I was awake at 0400 to make all final preparations, and of course that included a visit the lavatory, to leave for a 6 year trip that was to leave with or without me. The only available lavatory in my sector was 2 miles down. I made my way there at 0500 local time and made there in 36 minutes. In my profession there are protocols for every aspect of life and when in a rush we take risks. \n\nEvery six years a team of six archivers and six excavators make leave the base to end their tour and another team begins their tour with another six year trip. Including the time spent on base, we devote eighteen years of our live to this job. And so it would make sense to assume that I would check to make sure there was toilet paper available. But I did not. \n\nDay 2190.\nIt is unless I lost track somewhere along the way, nonetheless I make another mark on the wall with the laser that is available in all the lavatories in case of emergency. I catch another bug trying to make its way to the fill that I have allowed accumulate beneath me. For the past six years I have been able to sustain on these small creatures that manage to make there way in here. Today marks approximately the sixth year that I have been sitting here and I still hold hope. Then at this same moment the ground beneath me shakes and my stomach immediately sinks. Within a matter of second the shaking turns to vibrations. And a voice blares from the speaker \"employee 0-5-4-9 our sensors have detected that you are within the sector 4 lavatory, please be patient and relieve yourself of all of your weapon. We are on our way\". \n\nI don't know what to make of this but I am somehow relieved, perhaps it is because I will be leaving this red planet and this empty galaxy. Twenty minutes go by when finally I hear sounds behind the door. The access code is typed but the access light flashes red and again I'm fill the fear of uncertainty. Then there is a muttering between two or three people behind the door all I can make out is \"it won't work\", and immediately there are sparks of light as they begin to cut through the door. I can only think to pick up my laser. The door blasts open and my heart nearly explodes as I see their faces in their helmets, I wish I had never come here. I cut one of their suits enough to puncture their air sac and he screams in fear of breathing our air. As he bends down to patch his suit the other two step over him to relieve me of my weapon. The one holding restraints looks me in the eyes and through his suit says \"goodnight you ugly shit\"then knocks me unconscious. \n\nI awake restrained on the surface outside of the base cover, next to who I can safely assume are the new team. They are all badly beaten. As I look around, one of the men in suits walks up to us and begins to read from a sheet \"The Mars Charter of Allowances: Section 3 states that all colonies created by non humans are deemed inauthentic and those colonies will be immediately terminated and the inhabitants therein Judged and Incarcerated\". One of the new senior archivers interrupted \"we have sanctioned by the earth government for the past 300 years\". The human leader stepped forward pulled out his weapon and with a cold look shot the senior archivist in the head. He looked all of us over, in his face disgust and contempt \"we will no longer be allowing your kind to colonize within our galaxy\", he turned to his colleague and said \"board them for termination\".\n\n(edit: I apologize if this is poor writing, I am using this as an attempt to improve my writing. Thank you for reading." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're wrongly convicted and, instead of being executed by the death penalty, exported to an anarchic and secret Island in the mid pacific appropriately named Murder Isle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is established, sorta.\n\nThere is a manga called suicide island. With so many people attempting suicide, doctors are having them sign waivers in the hospital, drugging them and dumping them on a fairly well stocked island.\n\nhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hohzuki_Island\n\nBefore the events in the series, the main character finds out that the island used to be used for unrepentant murderers. They would dump them all on the island, and shoot anyone that tried to make a boat and leave it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You work for your country's Emigration Department." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**totally didn't read the entire prompt, before I started writing, but here is my effort**\n\nGloria didn’t particularly hate her job; she just found a slight annoyance in the day to day operations that was the US Department of Immigration. Lately it had become so routine to deny documents or send people on some rat race for documentation that didn’t even seem plausible to need for their inquiries. She’d become so accustomed to saying “come back later with more documentation” that she’d memorized the phrase in Spanish, French and German. \n\nIt was the immigrant mothers that perturbed her about her job the most. It wasn’t them individually, it was them collectively who seemed to have more children than they could feed, and were looking for assistance that Gloria couldn’t provide. Obtaining a green card or a visa was the more difficult than securing a handgun in this country. \nThere were moments she witnessed families being broken up because of status and their lack of documentation, and on more than a few occasions Gloria had changed around a date to help out those that would have otherwise been deported or arrested. In many ways it seemed to Gloria that immigration laws were in place to make it completely difficult for immigrants to even complete the process of obtaining citizenship or visa’s. It was designed for you to give up, with the notion that you’d return to your home country. But more often than not, people would try, and get only as far as they could and quit the process. Thus it was failed and faulted on both ends. \n\nHer supervisor, a burly white man over the age of 60, always reminded his staff that it is “our duty to maintain the dignity of this great country, we are in no position to have open boarders and those that deny our laws.” Gloria always called bullshit under breath, as far as she could tell, her supervisor wasn’t Native American and thus somewhere down the line his family had been granted free access to this “great country.”\n\nAs another young mother with poor English made her way to Gloria’s desk, she reminded herself of why she’d sought the position in the first place. It was less than 50 years back that her own parents had fled Cuba and arrived in the land of “the free.” She watched helplessly as the young mother struggled with her insufficient paperwork, as Gloria could see that a few lines were missing signatures and others weren’t even filled out completely. It was times like this that Gloria found herself sighing inside her head; she wished she could help more than she was currently able too.\n\n“Es esto correcto,” the young mother asked.\n\n“No, que me dejes pasar esto con usted,” Gloria replied, scooting from behind her desk and kneeling to aid the woman. \n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "NSFW but not erotica. Daniel, Marlene, and Marek. looking for constructive criticism." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I like your style. It's Chuck Palahniuk meets Naked Lunch.\n\nYou have a lot of awesome lines like \"Their audiovisual periphery blurred and mutated as buildings became monoliths and people nymphs, it was fantasy and feverish prophecy.\"The use of Czech was also a nice touch.\n\nThe ending left me a bit blue-balled though. Some minor grammatical/punctuation errors here and there. Overall, pretty interesting read." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "My high school teacher used to insist that \"the worse way to end an exciting story is to end with '...and then, he woke up and it was all a dream.'" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a nation, long ago, that breathed fire and bred steel. It was the mighty dragon of our world, unlike most nations that had come before it, yet still like every other one. They conquered entire planets, dominated the galaxy, nigh single handedly. They led in culture, and in technology, making life for those not involved in those pursuits to expand. \n\nThe idea, many say, was to create the greatest empire the world has every seen. The god of war was said to have smiled on them, seeing the destruction they caused. Others say he believed them immortal.\n\nHistory, of course, is retrospective. Mars, was satisfied... and then he woke up and it was all a dream. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Describe a character who is torn between his masculinity and his sensitivities." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A gargling came from around the alley, Joe imagined a mired fountain, spewing all sorts of waste. His kind of fountain. A fountain of filth. His curiosity pulled him towards the noise. A young woman, covered in rags, was lying on the ground, choking on her own vomit. Her stench was terrible, an aroma that Joe found pleasant but alarming, the stench of feces and dried blood. He carried her in his arms to the hospital, and left her there.\n\nThe next day he returned, eager to see how she was doing. He had dreamed of her all night. A girl born of filth, surely of the same slop that he had risen from. And yet when he arrived, she had been cleansed. Born again in the sterility of a hospital, this girl actually looked presentable.\n\n'What have you done to her?!' Joe asked a Doctor.\n\n'Dont I look better? Thank you for saving me' The girl answered, seemingly unaware that Joe was not interested in anything she might say. \n\n'No, this isn't how I imagined you. I was saving you from your illness, not your filth. Now look at you, you're ruined.'\n\nThe girl began to cry. 'I thought you were a man I could depend on. Can I at least crash on your couch til I get back on my feet? I've been homeless for so long, I dont know how to start back over again'\n\n'Fine. Get your homeless ass in my car, Ill be the man you need. For now. Whats your name anyway.'\n\n'Molly. Thank you so much.' Great Joe thought, what have I gotten myself into now.\n\nThe girl looked at Joe's couch like it was the best place she'd ever slept. Most people usually got a disgusted look from the obvious pizza and semen stains covering the fabric, but this girl seemed right at home. Joe farted in approval. This girl might turn out to be ok.\n\n'Im going to go masturbate, make yourself at home' Joe told her\n\n'You dont want help?' Joe was surprised, he expected he would have to force himself on her, but this was great. The man in him was telling him no, but his sloppiness couldn't let this opportunity pass.\n\n'Come with me' he grunted, and grabbed a slice of pizza off the floor to eat while he banged.\n\nShe laid on his bed and spread her legs. He could see the lice in her pubes but he didnt mind. He bent down and started to eat her out, the pizza in his mouth mixing with the fetid taste of mustard and anchovies. He vomited from how gross she was down there, the perfect lube. He whipped out his tiny, cyst covered rod, a full 3 inches at this point. He plunged into her and came almost instantly, farting as he did so. She moaned in what he assumed was pleasure. Sloppy Joe had found a woman to love." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Heaven and Hell don't exist, but that doesn't mean there's no afterlife." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first, I was surprised to be awake. I’d always subscribed to the idea that once you die, poof, that’s it. No more consciousness, no more essence, no more soul. Oops. I looked down at my hands. They seemed pretty substantial, but the last thing I’d seen were the oncoming lights of the F train. No way I’d survived that. And if I had, I’d be in a hospital, not… here.\n\nI stretched, sitting up. I was in a room that I didn’t recognize, in a twin bed. The clothes I was wearing were the ones that I remembered wearing on that last day. The day that I died. The thought felt strange. I didn’t feel dead.\n\nBefore I had too long to mull it over, there was a knock at the door. “Come in?” I didn’t really have another option. What was I going to do, turn them away?\n\nThe door swung open smoothly, revealing a matronly-looking woman in her mid-60s. “Hello dear. Feeling all right?”\n\n“Feeling confused. Do I know you?” She chuckled.\n\n“Oh, I doubt it.” She took a seat at my bed side. “You seem awfully calm. Do you have any questions? Care to take a look around?”\n\n“Just so I’m sure we’re on the same page here, am I dead?”\n\n“Yes, dear. From what I understand, it was pretty painless for you, though. That’s always a comfort.”\n\n“I guess. There are worse ways to go. So, where am I? Is this purgatory?”\n\nShe sighed. “That’s a question I’ve been getting a lot these days. Maybe we need new paint jobs in the waking-up rooms. Hardly anyone thinks they’re in heaven anymore.”\n\n“Is this heaven?”\n\n“Oh, no. I’m afraid you’ve been rather mislead in that respect. There is no heaven, no hell, no purgatory, as you know it at least. But, obviously, there is a life after death.”\n\n“So…. How does this work? What do we DO here? Will I see my family \nhere?”\n\n“Let me show you around. Maybe you’ll get a better idea of how all this works.”\n\nI got out of bed, stretching. The familiar popping of my joints and dull pain in my back was gone. Not too shabby. Maybe being dead had its advantages after all.\n\nWe went down the hallway, which looked a lot like the hallway of a hotel, and out what looked to be the main door. “This building is for the newly welcomed, like yourself. We’ve got counselors if you need them, but you seem to be adjusting remarkably well.”\n\nThe doors opened out onto a city street. It looked an awful lot like New York, but there was something just a little off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “We have country facilities too, but we thought you’d be more comfortable here.”\n\nWe walked down the sidewalk, passing other people. Everyone looked happy, it was a gorgeous day out, and I found myself wondering if maybe this wasn’t heaven after all. “Once you get settled in, you can choose a task. We handle all the administrative parts of death – making sure people get settled in, and find a way to be productive. And eventually, we help people find their placements.”\n\n“Placements?”\n\n“Once you decide you’ve had enough of your time here, you’re sent back to the living world. With no memories, of course, you start over again.”\n\n“But… why would anyone choose that option? You’d lose everything you’ve learned, lose all the connections you’ve made. And it seems like this world is kind of perfect.”\n\nShe smiled. “Some people do never choose to leave. There are souls that have been here for eons. But this world is perfect. There is no pain, no hunger, no disease, no war. It is impossible to be destructive or want for anything. If there’s something you’re missing, you simply have to think of it, and it’s here.”\n\n“Whoa. So you’re saying, if I wanted a cookie, right now, I could have one?”\n\nShe held out her hand. “One cookie, just for you.”\n\n“Damn. Explain to me again why anyone would give this up?”\n\n“It does allow for infinite creative expression. Some people find that endlessly rewarding, but they are few and far between. A large part of the human experience stems from adversity, from challenge. After a few millennia, you start to miss that.”\n\nIt suddenly struck my why the street we were walking down seemed a little off .Everything was perfectly clean, there was no litter, no chips in the paint, no grime on the sidewalk. It was perfect, but it wasn’t the New York that I had loved in life.\n\n“Quick question. How exactly does population growth work, then? If some souls are staying here, wouldn’t the population of earth be declining?”\n\nShe smiled. “You’re not the only planet in the universe, you know.”\n\n“Whoa.”\n\n“Yup. You’ve got a bit of catching up to do. Eventually, you’ll meet back up with people that you knew in your past life, and you’ll find a task. I think you might be suited to special circumstances.”\n\n“What’s that?”\n\n“As I mentioned, you get sent back into the world with no memories. But there are people who only want to go back if they’ll be with their soul mate. There are ways that we can make that more likely, of course, but no way to guarantee it just by choosing births. That’s up to special circumstances. A missed train, a found note, a decision to put an ad in the paper for a lost glove. Little tweaks of reality, shall we say.”\n\n“You can do that?”\n\n“And more. Like I said, you’ve got a lot to learn.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The ancient Egyptians were really a colony of time travelers from our future, using the local population to repair the time travel device hidden in the pyramids. Everything was going great until some asshole named Moses showed up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The time travelers looked at the pyramids they worked so hard to build to get back home. While they regretted using the locals as slaves to achieve their goals they did not see the enormous casualties acquired as morally reprehensible just inconvient to maintaining the timeline until they could return. Unfortunately a fellow time traveler known as Moses could not stand the actions of his fellow time travelers and had convinced the locals to revolt. The locals were now out of control and had to be contained. The time travelers had mobilized and pinned the rebels to the Dead Sea. Unfortunately for the time travelers Moses had used the time machine covertly. The time travelers heard explosions and the rebels were exclaiming \"look at the column of fire.\"The time travelers looked up to see a B-52 bomber with a middle finger panted on the side and realized how screwed they were as they heard the whistles." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Wales, of the United Kingdom, becomes completely deserted overnight. Everyone has gone without a trace. You arrive in Wales from London for your holiday. Show your journal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "9:45 PM-Parked at a truck stop for the restroom. The nights been strange, I haven't seen a single car since we entered Whales. No people walking either. It's kinda eerie. Headed to the pub in a few, that place is usually stuffed with people.\n\n\n10:32PM-What the fuck?!? The pub was open, but it was completely empty, no patrons, no workers. I even checked in the back and shouted for someone. When no one responded, I helped myself to a pint, and headed out to my mums house. \n\n\n12:05AM-This is so fucked! I checked my mums place, and nobody was there. I called her on my cell, and nothing! I called the police, NOTHING! Fuck this! I'm heading back to London, this place is wrong.\n\n\n3:00AM-NONONONONONO this isn't right! THIS PLACE IS A GODDAMN GHOST TOWN! \n\n\n5:00AM-I think I saw someone in the park. I'm going to go find them.\n\n\n6:46AM-NOBODY HERE!\n\n\n9:44AM-NOTHING!\n\n\n7:00PM-NOTHING!\n\n\n???-NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING.\n\n\nI'm alone...\n\n\nI'm alone...\n\n\nI'm alone...\n\n\nI'm alone...\n\n\nI'm not alone...\n\n\nGod help me...\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It's not time travel, but the potential repercussions are almost as severe. (sci-fi)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Mr. Data,\n\nThe problem is resolution. Also, “resolution” is one of those words whose disparate meanings really compliment each other in such situations. But I will get to that later. At any rate, finding a killer who struck yesterday is one thing, but decades-old history is quite a bit less accessible. Oh it’s out there, certainly, but the problem is seeing it clearly enough, what with subspace distortion, background radiation, gravitational lensing, and a host of other effects, not to mention the necessary limitations of sensor systems. One cannot simply move the Argus Array at warp 9, after all. Such instruments as can travel quickly enough to be of use in scouting the past must of course be compact and sturdy so as to survive faster-than-light travel, which is a major limiting factor.\n\nAll said, there exists a statute of limitations, of sorts, which presently stands at about eight years. Beyond this, present technologies do not possess the necessary resolution to render an absolute picture. Of course, technology continuously develops and improves, and as it does so we can look further back with better clarity, though currently that dichotomous march serves only to fix the date of perspicuity rather more firmly. And so there has become a kind of new age, and we as a collective have crossed some threshold into a time of absolutes now-- Without doubt, immutable history has all sorts of societal and scientific implications, and it is conceivable that at some point our greatest adventurers will set out on a quest to trace back our story to its very unembellished origins, at which point all who wonder will have the answers to a great many ancient questions.\n\nThat said, such knowledge is inherently bifurcative, and at least for now, the average citizen can only trust (or doubt) in his scientific and political champions, and make of their pronouncements what he will. Specialized knowledge has always had this effect, and will no doubt continue to be often misrepresented by those in power, and just as commonly misunderstood by the rest. \n\nFurther, one must consider the philosophical consequences of an unerring history. Not to delve too deeply into a debate of ontologics, but humans have always enjoyed a certain liberty in penning the pages of their histories, both personal and collective; one wonders if a complete and factual knowledge of the sum of human endeavors and failings might inadvertently unravel the tapestry of our collective culture. What underpinnings of our very society might be wholly expunged in the floodlights of ineluctable truth?\n\nThis brings us well-round to “resolution” again-- Always, we work toward it, an ending in some form to whatever task or era is before us. But as the resolution of our sensors increases, so too will the reach of our knowledge expand, up to some point at which all that has been will come known. And what then? To know the future? I suppose that would be the grandest resolution of all, my friend. But until then, I shall carry on as if I still indeed possess a free will, and as if my actions are not laid out before me to be scanned and predicted by some far-off array.\n\nHope this communique finds you well.\n\nYour friend,\n\nJames Moriarty\n\n-----\n\nVery cool prompt. I've thought about that idea too, although not in too much depth until now. It was a great chance to explore something else I've been thinking about as well, which is the story of [the sentient Moriarty hologram from TNG's \"Ship in a Bottle\"](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/James_Moriarty) after it \"leaves\"the Enterprise. In this little story, I imagined Moriarty corresponding with Data as he goes about his journeys. So anyway thanks for an excellent prompt!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up to only one person left in the world. There is a red button and a phone contacting both of you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It took me a moment to realize what was happening. The images flashed rapidly on the screen before us. They were images of all life on Earth being exterminated. I watched as the gas settled and people everywhere began suffocating. Eventually, there was not a soul left alive, except for me and this girl standing next to me. We had both awakened at the same time. An alarm had sounded, and that’s when the images began.\n\nI looked over at her. She was still staring at the screen, mouth open, wide eyed, and a tear forming in the corner. I reread the sign above the screen. \"Human Species Second Attempt Program.\"A sudden ringing startled both of us; she even screamed a little, or maybe that was me. I shifted my gaze toward the source of the noise. Against the wall rested a phone with a big red button next to it. I was hesitant to answer it. From all of the evidence there was no one left alive except for us, and I knew she wasn't calling. Slowly I began walking toward the phone, it was probably against my better judgment, but what else did I have to lose. My hands shook as I reached for the phone. The red button began to pulse as I lifted the receiver. I placed it to my ear and a mechanical voice drifted from the other end. \n\n\"The Human species has been deemed unworthy, and has been downgraded to the trial phase once again. You two have been chosen to restart the human species. Please press the RED button to begin.”\n\nThere was silence on the other end for a few moments before repeating the same message again.\n\n“Who is it?” The girl asked. I had forgotten she was there. The absurdity of the question coupled with her startling presence struck me wrong, and I began laughing. “What?”\n\n“It’s no one” I managed through bouts of laughter. I realized at that moment that I was really laughing out of fear of the situation, and not really at her. I began crying. “Here, listen.” I handed the phone to her, and watched as her face dropped. \n\nNeither of us said anything for a long time. We just sat on our respective beds and watched either the blinking red button or the television screen.\n\n“Well,” I said, finally tired of the silence, “My name is John.”\n\nShe looked up at me as I held my hand out to her. She had deep emerald colored eyes that perfectly matched the Merlot shading of her hair. Her lips were a lovely rose color and I realized that if I had to spend the rest of my life with someone, I was glad it was her.\n\n“Rebecca,” she said, after wiping the tears from her eyes. She grabbed my hand and shook it while using it to rise from the bed. “Shall we proceed to our new life together?”\n\nHand in hand we walked to the blinking red button and pushed it together.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The night after the baby is born, mothers have a dream about the future. You see your family, but you're not there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she woke up, the dream was already starting to fade. She knew it was coming, everyone knew about the dreams, or maybe visions, but they were impossible to describe. So realistic, yet so strange. Not quite a dream, but not reality either. As the memories of her vision began to vanish with the morning light, she sat back with a smile. The one thing she will never forget is that he was happy. Her son would have a good life; he would be loved. As she picked up the pen and signed the adoption papers, a single tear rolled down her face, but she finally knew for certain that this was the right decision.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a truly terrifying ghost story that happens in broad daylight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I don't normally walk this way, but somehow I ended up here. \n\nIt's weird how that happens. I daze off into my own little world, and when I come to, I'm always walking down this road.\n\nThere it is, my old bus stop. That's where I decided my fate. That's where I was nothing, where I was a faggot and a retard and nothing.\n\nThere's my old hiding spot in the small patch of trees. The place where I was something, where I had power and was worth something. \n\nBut it was never real.\n\nThere's my old house. The place where I was the mistake. The place where I was \"it\"and not a loved son. \n\nThe place where I stole my dad's loaded .32 automatic.\n\nThere's my old bus stop. The place where I was something, where I had power. \n\nIn that moment, I was me, and no one would tell me any different. \n\nBut it was only within that gun, not me.\n\nThe ghosts still haunt me. I can see them truly begging for mercy. The mercy I wouldn't give. \n\nHere in my dark cell, I can still see them. \n\nWhen I am allowed a look at the outside world, the scene is always the same.\n\nThe poor, tortured soul I took in eternal unrest. I don't even bother looking anymore. The ghost haunts me.\n\nI am condemned to my cell, and worse; my thoughts.\n\nThe place where I lose my mind. Piece by piece, day by day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "ISIS has just committed a previously unimaginable and heinous act of terror on an international group of students including many Americans. You, as [specific fictional or historical] President, break the news to your country, the world, and lay out your tentative course of action..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you ready Mr. President\"\n\nWith a gentle nod, the cameraman motioned I was on air. Solemnly I stared into the lens. \n\n\"My fellow Americans, moments ago an act of terror has befallen on the good children of the United States of America and many other countries around the world. On September 5th, 436 students of American and European descent were mass-executed at a unknown destination. We have the best of this country attempting to find out where exactly this place is, and I cannot promise that we will find where these innocent children have been murdered. \nI can promise you that The United States of America will continue to attack and neutralize the threat that the ISIS is. But, We will not send more troops, scramble more fighters, or assemble new military operations. We will continue to do our pass military tactics as they have been proved effective. This is what I know. I also know that many of you will not find this comforting or reassuring. And frankly, I do not find it so comforting myself. All that I can ask of this country is too stand strong in the face of adversary and terror that we face today. Our Country was found on the idea of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and we do pay for it everyday.\nLet this act of inhumanity not stop us in fighting for what we believe in. Let this act of terror strengthen the fact of our will to fight for what is right.\nLet this day be remembered not as a tragedy, but as a day where we kept on fighting. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "As someone who has had terrible vision their entire life, one night you go to take your contacts out... and nothing is there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I feel for them. I can see them in the mirror, in fact I can actually see, but when I run my hand over my face, I have to face the facts. My eyes are gone. There's just nothing there! I can still see, it still looks like I have eyes and they are open, but my fingers feel closed eyes, sunken into my sockets. This is mighty odd. They were definitely there this morning, I remember putting inn my contacts. Hmm. I should really poetically get this checked out. Nah I'm sure it's fine *hops into bed*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've been administered the cure for zombification. However, it can only be spread through biting the infected." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There's bits of something stuck between my teeth.\n...I'm pretty sure it's my next-door neighbour.\n\nYou kind of expect the feeling beforehand, of course - nobody could describe biting a zombie *pleasant* - but what they forget to think of is that, seconds after sinking your teeth into a shambling monster, it becomes a person again. And it's hard to explain yourself through a mouth full of arm.\n\nFrank was the first one I tried to help. Best friends are supposed to do that stuff, you know? Help you move house, make you human again. And I get it, really I do - it must be scary coming to, missing half your memories, your best friend gnawing on a chunk of your still-greyish flesh. But still. I didn't deserve that black eye.\nIt never gets easier, but the cure saves lives - at least by the twenty-third person, I'd learnt to duck first. And I don't mind this job, really I don't. Helping people is always nice, just so long as I've got my supplies. The vitals. You know what I'm talking about.\n\nThe thing about zombies - the really *important* thing about zombies - is that's they're soggy. Like moist sponge cake. You try and give them a little nip and end up with a mouthful of decomposing goo. I never thought I'd say it, but I preferred the days when people used injections for medicine. Frank gets it. We ran out of water one day, right, and we dealt with it. We're good at that stuff. Typical zombie apocolypse stuff; it's expected, really. But it's the *supplies* that are important. You know what I'm saying?\n\nBecause God help me, if we ever run out of dental floss, this dear little world is *doomed*." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One person can swap bodies with others by saying \"Change, now!\"toward them. They kept a low profile, until one day it all hits the fan." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lucas wasn't sure how it started. He cared less and less as time went on. A lifetime of exposure to pop culture, movies, cartoons and manga meant that he'd happened on the phrasing a time or two, and worked his way through things backwards to pinpoint what made it work. All he had to do was say the phrase \"Change now,\"and instantly he would be transported into the closest body of whomever happened to be in the direction he was looking at. \n\nEach person retained their personality, their memories, but physically they swapped shells, becoming fully dialed into their new bodies and senses in an instant. Granted, if you're the only one who knows what's going on, it's a little easier to tolerate, and a little easier to explain. To most of his unwitting victims, however, Lucas had found people weren't too given to talking about their strange experiences, and even fewer people were able to get anyone to believe them.\n\nAt first, he started small. He could easily rely on the fact that nobody would believe that such a thing was possible, but he felt it prudent to not draw any attention to himself if he made it too obvious he was the source of the switch. He loved the miniature victories that built his confidence. Jumping in, tapping a third person on the shoulder while acting as if he was the victim, popping back out when nobody was paying attention. That sort of thing.\n\nQuickly, though, being a horny young man of freshly 19, his deviance got the best of him, he gave into temptation, and started to wonder how far he could push things without getting caught. His best friend Steve was the perfect test subject. Steve, you see, had it all—dashing good looks, pretty decent grades, athletic prowess and even a scholarship. Oh, and the pick of any girl he wanted. As if to rub it in the face of every other guy at their school, where they had recently graduated, Steve took that infinite power, power Lucas would easily give up his own for, and spent it on one young woman for the past four years. Misty Kearns.\n\nTo her credit, Misty was a nice enough person as well. Not especially interesting, not especially brilliant, but she had a good heart and she had somehow avoided being the steretypical bitch that most undersexed boys needed to believe that every good-looking girl was. And she was good-looking. Very good-looking. So good looking, in fact, that the deepest darkest part of Lucas knew that he wanted to be with her. Just the one time. And, truly, nobody had to know.\n\nSince they'd just graduated, and Steve was one of the most popular guys at school, it so happened that Steve was throwing a party to celebrate, and that his parents were away for the weekend. It bordered on cliche, the same cliches that Lucas grew up on, except in this rare case Steve's parents were well-aware the party was taking place. They just didn't care to be around the noise or the mess. He was permitted to have full run of the house as long as he took accountability for everyone's actions. And nobody anticipated there being a problem. Not with Steve. Not with perfect Steve.\n\nSo that wound up being Lucas' plan. He was, of course, invited, as Steve was one of his best friends, having known each other since 6th grade. Presumably, in a big, nice empty house full of drinking and commotion, Steve and his girlfriend would get to fucking, because isn't that what perfect people do when they're all alone? He'd swap into Steve's body, find some way to incapacitate his original body to prevent interruptions, and then do the deed that must inevitably be happening. \n\nBest of all, they were all drunk, stupid kids. She wouldn't question it, because he would do his damnedest to make the best out of the situation, and felt like he could convincingly play the role of big, dumb animal. Back in the safety of his own body, he certainly wouldn't tell on himself, and there slightly-less-sexed Steve would sit, on his hands, looking like a psycho and complaining about some impossible shit. This was brilliant.\n\nOr, at least, that was the plan.\n\nThe night of the party, Lucas arrived and Steve was nowhere to be found. Misty, however, was clearly visible. Lots of girls are pretty. Misty was that girl that wasn't just dolled up. She was just knock your socks off beautiful, the kind that made you feel more peaceful just looking at her. He craned his neck around, doing another sweep. How hard could it be to find a dude in his own house? He checked his watch. Twenty minutes. I know he hasn't already gotten to the inevitable sex part, because she's right over the--\n\n\"Luke? Luke!\"It was Misty, who'd darted across the room upon seeing a familiar face. Sure, they were all familiar, but through Steve she got to know Lucas decently well. Well enough to feel comfortable without Steve around. Lucas made idle chit-chat, until he convinced himself that maybe Steve *was* having sex, but with one of those other girls, finally. It made sense. Right about now Steve and Misty would be talking about how to continue things together when they both were off to college. Maybe old Steve wants one last chance to dip in the skank pool before drying off with the towel of a lifelong commitment to Misty. Who would need to shop outside of this girl, though?\n\nThat's when he made his fateful decision. Sex is pretty fucking dark. She was a pretty nice person. That didn't stop him from thinking about fucking her earlier, but now being reminded about what her actual presence was like, he couldn't bring himself to go that far. All he had really wanted to do was see her naked. So he resolved to get her alone, make the switch, knock himself out, and explore. Just a peek. Nobody wins, but nobody loses.\n\nFinding a way to exit the commotion was fairly straightforward, given that he shared her feelings on being alone in a crowd. The room she was standing in front of earlier was Steve's. They could go in there, and nobody would disrespect Steve enough to go in and interrupt. Presumably they thought the same thing he thought, that he'd be banging his girlfriend. No matter that she was standing out in front of them. If they ever did start to pay attention, she'd be gone. Wouldn't be a thought.\n\nOnce they were in Steve's room, it was time to make good on this whole plan. He pulled a few airplane bottles of his pockets, which he'd crunched some pills into and topped off with a bit of vodka, took a hefty swig of each, confusing the hell out of her, reducing her to nervous laughter. As he began to black out, he stumbled and stammered, \"Change, now!\"\n\nGood as new. He was looking at the back of the door, which was slightly ajar. He looked at his own body, and thought how much more peaceful it looked unconscious versus all of the times before where he'd seen himself wide awake in a state of shock. Never mind that now, though, time is of the essence!\n\nHe quickly walked over to the door, pushed it the rest of the way shut, and was set to lock it when he heard a loud CRACK and, in the self-same instant, the door pushed right into him, in Misty's tiny frame, and nearly pushed him to the floor where his original body lay.\n\n\"What the fuck, man?\"Lucas exclaimed. It was Steve, in all his stocky glory. Looking exceptionally animalistic. This was the face he should have rightly received if he was looking back at Steve with his own eyes. It was a little intimidating. But he wasn't himself right now. So why was he getting these glares?\n\n\"What the fuck yourself, Misty. What's this I hear about you macking on my best fucking friend?\"\n\n\"Ha! No, uh, no, dude, it's me, Lucas!\"Almost as weird as the situation was revealing this information so early, when it would make the least sense, then hearing his own words crack in someone else's voice.\n\n\"Yeah, I know it's you and Luke. That's the problem. People at the party have been telling me you were being really flirty with him earlier. You wanna explain yourself?\"\n\n\"I, uh, I can explain, but that doesn't mean you're going to want to hear it. I mean, not about that, not about this, but what's going on.\"\n\nSteve didn't reply. He slammed the door shut again and successfully completed turning the lock on the doorknob.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Heaven is a battle that I've already lost." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without the body, the mind was free to wander. Beyond life was a recess without determinant substance. What I wished was, was. What I believed to be, would be. The engine of my imagination was my world.\n\nWhat of the afterlife, I thought. Where was I in relation to those who died before me and were to die in eventuality? With whom could I speak? In my seemingly infinite mind I thought of the being that could be God. Nothing came to being that I imagined, though in time something did come.\n\nA wisp of clouds surrounded and a blackness spun and twisted itself into form, into a presence. The figure before me offered little comfort in its appearance and sought no such redemption.\n\nI thought ill of myself as I stood before the figure. My place in the afterlife, I wanted to assure myself, was not to be spent in eternal anguish.\n\n\"Heaven,\"it said, \"was meant for the spirits of the deceased. As a guide it would provide itself as a beacon for the wandering souls who passed on.\"\n\n\"This is not Heaven?\"I asked.\n\n\"This is not Heaven. This is the ocean upon which it sails. You've failed to see its light.\"\n\n\"Then who are you?\"\n\n\"I am but a single fragment of order drifting in the Chaos.\"\n\n(Falling asleep, may follow up tomorrow.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a story using the cool kid sayings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I guess I could jab about me and my henches, cruising this mooney can and slippin' on rubies like tomorrow's never gonna jack, and all that shibe.\n\nBut this ain't clockwork. And I fuckin' *hate* orange.\n\nOrange be the colour of Killjoys and Librarians, scum of the sun, frocking around they do with the fuckin' orange patch on their awemax shoulders. Couple o' oranges spoiled Melv, my left-hand masturbator. Caught the sorry son o' scum christmasing rubies by the black, turns out miners were orange all along. Fuck orange.\n\nBut let's not twist. I'm in no mood to be clunkin' around. Tonight was gonna be spectaculous, very awemin. Tonight, my henches and I be snatching this mooney can for all it's worth (after our rubies, of course). Now, it be a matter of tick and tock. Tick, tock. Tick.\n\n\"Jedd,\"Baby hallows my name, \"tick tock, they got it all. We can take 'em now, like you've always feasted.\"\n\n\"Awemin,\"I babble.\n\nI give my henches the whistle, and we rag the rocks. Baby pulls a springer out of her trench and mics everyone in the can to stay the fuck down. Melv and Wade lock the exits. They, the fuckin' pigs, banshee the walls like hell's insomniac bats. Yours truly whips his zapper, and all see, all know, and all quiet now. \n\nI don't crave the quiet. \n\nI twirl and drum my zapper like a fuckin' maestro. My symphony of squeals, I demand, and now comes alive. Waving, now they wave the same. \"Louder!\"I banshee, as the rest of my henches cut pockets and taste that tasty silver. They squirm like worms. Loud, quiet, loud, quiet. I could do this 'til the ground thaws out. \"Squeal up, pigs! Louder!\"\n\nIt's fuckin' awemin to be me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Earth is completely inhabited by indian tribes that are constantly fighting each other. Someone has the nerve to fight for peace." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "‘Storyteller,’ I whispered. Try as I might, tonight sleep would not come. ‘Storyteller,’ I said again speaking as loud as I dared as so not to wake anyone else.\n\nStoryteller opened his eyes a crack upon hearing his name. He appeared set to shut them again perhaps thinking he’d only heard his name in a dream.\n\n‘Speak Storyteller,’ I said again and Storyteller raised his eyelids wide. ‘Storyteller, tell me of the Great Peace and the Council of the 10,000 Sons.’\n\nStoryteller’s eyes sparkled, for this tale he has told often. Storyteller’s eyes quickly darted around the large sleeping hall and seeing no one’s eyes but mine open, Storyteller began his tale in a hush, an excited hush, but a hush nonetheless.\n\n‘The Great Peace began when the tribes of the Empire of Pyramid Builders first encountered the men who came from across the Great Sea. The said they were emissaries from the King of Spn. We would call him Great Chief, this man they called king. They claimed to come in peace but brought death. They sailed away with gold and many of the treasures of the Empire. The Great Chiefs of the Pyramid Builders knew they would come again and if they came to the lands of the Pyramids, surely they would come to other points along the Great Sea. The Chiefs gathered and decided, guided surely by Power, to send the sons of all their tribes and cities to warn and treat with their Northern Brothers. The Pyramid Builders and People of the Lakes had never been allies, but so great was the threat the Great Chiefs felt that all of the Peoples must come together.\n\n‘They met at the Great Mounds of the River People for the River People traded with both the Pyramid Builders and People of the Lakes and could be, it was hoped, intermediaries should the need arise.\n‘And soon did that need arise. Quickly the reason of the Council of the 10,000 Sons was forgotten as old and petty rivalries flared and disputes loomed that could doom the Council. So long they bickered, that some joked this great meeting of the People would be remembered as the Council of the 10,000 Suns.\n‘Eventually the wisest of the Sons won out, guided no doubt by Power, with the argument that as we bicker as Brothers, the Great Chiefs from across the Sea could marshal forces and cross the waters. For the Pyramid Builders had learned that the men of Spn had left to fight the men of those called Kings in Franz and Inglnd. Could these Kings not come together in Council as we have and set aside differences, the argument went.\n\n‘So it came to be that the longboats that plied the icy Gitchegumee joined the reed boats of the Pyramid Builders to cross the Great Sea in the boldest, largest fleet the People had ever known.\n‘I should pause here, ‘ Storyteller digressed, ‘to speak of the People of the Plains and Mountains. Following the Council of the 10,000 Sons, emissaries were sent to the Pueblos and to find the People Who Roamed After Buffalo. But these People would not join our cause. If your threat comes from the Great Eastern Sea, then that is your fight. We see no threat to our ways. The Great Western Sea has never threatened us, they said. So the Empire and the People of the Lakes, now confederated under the Iroquois, fought together alone. The story of how the People of the Plains and Mountains were joined to us is sad, bloody and best saved for another time.\n\n‘When our Warriors crossed the Great Sea it was as the Pyramid Builders described. The Great Chiefs of Urope were waging war against one another. Their warriors has decimated each other with their swords. When our Warriors besieged with our arrows, slings and atlatl, the men of the Great Chiefs were so broken from their previous fighting they offered little resistance.\n\n‘The Great Chiefs, these men who called themselves kings, met with the People at a place they called Var-Zy which was a palace of great gold and wealth in the Kingdom they called Franz. The Great Chiefs of Spn and Franz and of Inglnd laid sword and crown at the feet of our Warriors.\n\n‘Warriors sent word across the Great Sea and a Great Council of the Victorious Chiefs sailed and met at the place called Pariz, which was also in Franz. The Great Chiefs surveyed this new land called Urope. They found cold northern lands that well suited the Iroquois. The warm waters of Urope’s Southern Sea delighted the Pyramid Builders. But it was over control of Franz that the Great Council threatened to break. For all Great Chiefs wanted the treasures of Var-Zy, and the sweet grapes found along the Great Sea.\n\n‘The Chiefs...spoke to their elders...sought an equitable...’ I looked up as Storyteller slowed then paused in his telling. I saw his eyes were looking at me tired, I could almost see Power draining from them. It was late, and Storyteller was not young. All things age and so fails their Power, the Elders are so often to remind us.\n\n‘Rest, Storyteller,’ for I knew the remainder of the tale. At the command Storyteller closed his eyes slowly as the Power left his body.\n\nI picked up Storyteller to set under my cot as I rolled over to attempt sleep again. I’ve had Storyteller speak on the Council of the 10,000 Sons so many times I should be ready for tomorrow’s history test, I thought as I drifted off.If I don’t know the tale by now, I never will. And I must remember to ask the Elders for a new Storyteller on the next Day of My New Sun.\n\n____________________________________________\n\nOriginally written for [this prompt.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/28rzga/wp_the_worlds_two_premier_colonial_powers_the/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It turns out that we *were* planted here by another civilization: the original human race, of Terra Prime." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three months into the oppression, I find myself coated in blisters. Working myself and my family to the bones, two meals a day, the contents of which decided by the higher humans of Terra Prime. They look differrent but identical at the same time. Their stockier build means we cannot protest. They're enormous. Who knows what kind of place they're from?\n\nYet I have to remind myself, they are us; human. We are the same, as much as it pains me to admit. They watch over us until we sleep; a slave trade of over seven billion people expending our resources in a matter of months. And then what? A reward? A trip of a lifetime into the cosmos? No. Anarchy. A struggling world, toxicated by its barren state, left to fight or die. \n\nThere's no way we can survive much longer. Fuels have been used up, the air is becoming deadly, and we're dropping by the thousands every day. What happens to the dead, you may ask? Collected, taken into orbit, and ejected into space. No respect.\n\nAnything the Highers don't need they destroy. Anti-matter bombs planted into the world's major rainforests, destroying the lungs of this world in seconds. We're suffocating. They harvest the seas of water, converting it into fuel and breathable air for themselves. Despite all of this, I believe we are the same as the Highers. Our morals are the same. We've both accellerated mass extinction on this earth, and enslaved those we deem inferior.\n\nOne hour each night I sacrifice sleep to write this. I hope that one day this diary will be found. I don't care who finds it, but I simply hope that whoever you are that finds this will know the importance of it. This may be the only true-to-life documentation of the harvest that exists.\n\nMore on this will have to be written another time, as I need to sleep. The Highers patrol these huts 24/7, and as much as it seems irrelevant I don't think dying in such an indignified manner is something I want. I will work, and I will do as I'm told. I won't step out of line, even though my fate is already certain.\n\nTo whoever finds this diary, I hope that you keep this planet's history alive." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're in a car accident. The person in the accident dies and a week later you find $150,000 in your bank account." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hi there,\n\nHave you ever wondered where do people go once they die? Its the ultimate mystery isn't it? The whole death and after-life matter. Now, I am not religious myself, so I don't believe there is heaven or hell. But do you believe there is one? You could convince me. I am not so close minded either. I am pretty okay with opinions too you know. I let people say whatever they feel. I think I am a great person. Don't you?\n\nI was walking along the rail lines last week, in an abandoned subway. They have those at the ends of the city you know? I would love to take you there sometime. Its not as horrible as it sounds. What I love best about it is the constant anticipation when you stand at the center of the tracks. You feel like there is going to be a train rushing towards you any moment. You feel like any moment there is going to be a bright light running towards you. Oh! I just got the chills! It is so exciting! I am sure you will love it.\n\nSo along those tracks you know, I found this man. He lived there it seems. I walked up to him. I realized he wasn't breathing. I realized he was dead. That made me sad you know? This man, alone, in this exciting place, dying without a final goodbye. I went through his pile and found your wallet. It had your picture in it. You looked so pretty in it. It also had your address. So I thought I would return it to you. I know wallets are pretty important. I used to have one too. It had a picture of my family you know. But they died. That made me sad too. But its OK. Life and death matters are like that. You can't do too much about it you know?\n\nYou had gone out drinking last week, remember? Sharon was throwing a big party for her promotion? That party was pretty fancy wasn't it? I loved the expensive champagne. But I have been asked to not drink. Ever since I had that little incident last year. I got a little drunk and forgot everything. Alcohol is so funny. But when I woke up they told me I had stabbed myself. I told you, I forgot everything. They said I was not right in the head. They were saying so many things. That made me sad too. They let me heal and then let me go. Being back with my family made me happy. I was with them at Sharon's party remember? You asked me my name thrice. I think alcohol made you forget too. Alcohol is so funny you know?\n\nWe were driving back home when you started racing us. That was fun. I love the cold air in the night rushing by my ear making the whoosh sound. But suddenly you lost control and banged into us. That was very scary. It felt like the train rushing towards me had crashed into me. It really hurt. I only remember your bag flying into the air and landing on the sidewalk. But you didn't stop to pick it up. I tried to get up and get it for you. But my legs were stuck in my seat belt. I tried to call out to you but you went away. I had a wallet, I told you right? I know those things are important you know? I saw a shabby old man pick it up later and run into the dark. I couldn't stop him. I was still stuck. The shabby old man didn't help me. I think he was scared. I was very scared too.\n\nThey told me later that my family had died. It made me really sad. For sometime I didn't know what to do next. And they kept talking about putting me in a home. Somewhere new. I wouldn't know anyone there though! I didn't want to go there! So I ran away. I tried to find you. I looked for that shabby old man. I found him in the abandoned subway, I found your wallet, I found you. I thought I could ask you to keep me. You could help me. You looked so pretty. You looked like someone who would help me you know?\n\nI planned when to knock on your door. I mean, c'mon, I definitely know that on the evening of the 3rd you were going to go out drinking. You had called Harry and made plans silly. You don't remember? You looked great that night you know. When you stepped out of your door, I wish I could go with you. I have been so lonely. I wish I could have someone. Someone like you, you know? I have been really good this year. I was taking my medicines and going to every session also! I have been very good this year. \n\nBut I found out about Harry. That made me sad too. I realized I didn't have anyone. You had someone. Everyone I knew had died. Except you. But you didn't want me. So I went home. There was no one there. I realized I could take some money and go away somewhere. I tried to find the special place where my mother hid her wallet. She had taught me how to take money if I ever needed it. I remembered that very clearly. We had gone through it so many times. So I went to the bank to take out all our money. But the bank lady said she could not give the money to me. I was not authorized to carry that much cash she said. So I asked her if she could give it to you. Then you could give it to me you know? So I gave her your wallet and she said she could do that. She transferred our money to you. It made me happier. I would finally meet you. And maybe when you saw I had the money, you would go with me. We could go together somewhere. Without Harry you know? You could take care of me.\n\nI am a little shy. So I wrote this letter. I will be waiting outside your door when you read this. I don't want to go back to the policeman. I wanted to tell him about how I found you and how you would keep me. But I thought you could tell him yourself couldn't you? I have not told him anything yet. I am scared he will take me away from you. Will you please go tell him you will take care of me? Will you please go away somewhere with me?\n\nWaiting for you to open the door.\n\nLionel.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It is 11 pm and today was an exceptionally good day. You decide to talk to a stranger sitting next to you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Y'know, anyone ever tell you that you look goofy when you smile\"\n\nI'd been staring out the window, absently counting the telephone poles flying past (though I suppose we were the ones flying past them. Frames of reference always made the poet in me titter in confusion) when the unexpected short sentence cut through into my thoughts. \n\nThe woman sitting next to me had short, curt hair and a suit pressed like a leaf between the pages of a legal textbook - caught somewhere between formal and deathly dry. Her eyes, though, smiled out at me with an eternal hopefulness polished by a glint of knowing joviality that comes of happy experience and a trust that life, overall, is good. Or perhpaps that was just the poet in me tittering some more.\n\nEither way, she had been speaking to me - that much I had ascertained by the direction the eyes were pointing as well as the pregnant sort of pause that was currently ensuing while I was busy pontificating internally. Eventually, some shred of me decided that responding *verbally* might be the appropriate thing.\n\n\"Thanks? I guess I've been a bit... happy... of late.\"\n\nHer eyes never for a second left their comfortable seating in a direct line with mine.\n\n\"You sound surprised, kid. I'd hope happy would be more of a continual circumstance for you. Life gets better, y'know.\"\n\nShe stood, taking a newspaper and beige leather bag with her as she did so. A few steps later, crunching a wrapper underfoot and neatly stepping around an old man's cane, she was off the bus.\n\nMy stop was next, and I guess she was right. Things do get better." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Say something profound in the dumbest way possible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I once had this dog. He was totally chill--like, the raddest little dude I've ever known. But, he was a total runt. His brothers and sisters used to shit on him and kick him off his mom's tits when they'd be getting at that milk. He was so submissive when I got him. Any time we'd go for a walk he would tuck-tail and hang his head low. One time, I tried taking him to a dog park to play, and all he did was sit under a bench the whole time. It was so damn sad. He didn't have a shred of self-esteem outside of me rubbing his belly and cleaning his shit. But, you know what? He still got it on with the neighbor's dog whenever they played together. Hell, he even got to eat some good-ass carne asada with his kibbles sometimes because I would scoop leftovers into his bowl from tacos I couldn’t finish. So, you see, if that little dog could find reasons to wag his tail and hold his head up, you can too.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "- you are awakened one morning to your dog frantically barking in your backyard. You investigate and find a baby crow drowning in your pond. You rescue it, dry it off, and return it to the wild only to be greeted by its parents. What happens next?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "bark bark bark \n\n\n\ndammit batman what is it now i grown. rolling out of bed i grab a shirt and a knife (never hurts to be prepared) before heading out back. batmans not the kind of dog to bark randomly at nothing, he's to well traind for that so something must be going on. \n\n\n\nas i get out side i hear something spashing around in my pond. probably a chipmunk or something, might as well fish it out and send it on its way i think to myself its not like batman's going to shut up untill i do. \nthats when i heard some thing croke help.\n\n\n i brack in to a run hopeing its not a kid or something and as i see the pond come in to view i see batman going crazy at the waterside. crazy protective that dog is but a swimer he is not. i close on the pond peering into the dark water hopeing to see what ever it is thats crying for help. \n\nhelp the cry came again. i kept looking untill i saw it a bird as black as night floating in the water. quickly i found the net i keep near for just an occasion and fished it out. once out of the water i half expected the bird to fly away but it just rolled on to its feet and looked at me. \n\n\nah there you are muninn i heard a voice call out from behind me. there as if he had always bin standing there was a man. in one hand he held a staff and on the opposite shoulder stod a raven. He was cloaked from neck to toe in armor of an ancient style and on his head sat a massive helm. as the raven flew to his unoccupied shoulder he turned to me and said i suppose you diserve a reward for saveing my companion. \n\ni didnt hear his last line however as i had passed out\n\n(toke a bit of liberty's with this) " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A space colony is facing a terrible dilemma." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(not having children does not kill other people. it just means the colony as a whole will shrink until there is no one left. I don't see how the \"but nobody wants to die\"is a conflict point. Do they NEED children for medical reasons like a bone marrow transplant or something that they would die without it? Do they bath in the blood of children to stay immortal? Some clarification would help a lot.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up in—wait this isn’t your room. Confused you step to the mirror and realize that you don't recognize the face staring back at you..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "zzz...zzz... Uh...? Hey, I'm waking up... No, I don't want to wake up yet...\nI'll just roll over and get back to sleep. And... Nope. Not getting back. And stretch... I don't remember my bed being this comfy... Maybe I can get back to bed...\n\nzzz...zzz...\n\nAhh... Nice and rested... Wait a moment, my blanket is blue... That's not right... Did I go out last night? I don't remember going out, but this isn't my room. Not my taste of decor, either. Where is my phone? Where the hell are my clothes?\n\nAnd I need to pee. Great, don't know where I am, who I'm with, and now I need to find the bathroom. Hallway, kitchen... Bathroom! Alright...\n\n...\n\nThat feels a lot better. Now, to find my pho... what? Is that a mirror... Yep. Who the hell is that!? I know I've felt like I'm going crazy before, but I KNOW that isn't me. Shit... Where the fuck is my phone? Gotta find it... Hey, that's my ringtone!\n\nThere is is. Thank god. Missed call, from... Wife? This can't be my phone. But that's my background. I'll just call my brother, maybe he'll talk some sense into me, bring me back to reality.\n\nRing... Ring... *Hello?* \"Hey bro! What did I do yesterday?\"Ugh, this voice sounds so weird to me. *What? Who are you again?* \"It's your brother! What di-\"*I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number.* \"No, it's me! John!\"*Sorry, I'm positive you've got the wrong number. Bye.*\n\n... The fuck?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The fate of a person's soul is determined by the feelings of the people around them when they died." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You ever wonder why men on Death Row convert to Christianity before they die? I thought it is because they believe that accepting God will absolve them of all sins. But what would cause that to be? What is the specific trigger that makes God forgive you? Is it because they believe it, or because God forgives all who put Him above all others?\n\nWhat does it take to get into Heaven, exactly? Faith in God, spreading His word, living according to His law? That apparently wasn't enough, for I would be There if is was. But no. Forever, I am forced to relive that moment. The moment of my death.\n\nI sit at the red light, watching the traffic before me. The cars rush past, slightly over the speed limit. I can see their lights change from green to yellow, no matter where I look. Traffic slows, then comes to a stop, just as it always does. I look around, but nothing looks amiss. It never does.\n\nI don't want to put my foot on the pedal, but I can't resist. As I lurch forward, I see the car incoming. Of course, I can never hit the break in time. Always, against my will, I look to my left and see the face of the man who kills me. I can't close my eyes, no matter how hard I try. His face is contorted, eyes large, mouth agape, hands in the air.\n\n\nI feel the impact of the hit first, before the feeling of the door crushing my left side. My neck and chest hurt from the seatbelt grinding against my skin, and the lower half of my body feels as if it was being torn from me. The glass on my face is the last thing I feel before the airbag deploys. My pain ceases as my neck snaps.\n\nI lie dead, the world blurring before my eyes, sounds falling deaf upon my ears. Then before I know it, I'm in my car again, sitting at the same red light. You would think the shock and pain of death would eventually numb, but as I said, this isn't Heaven." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"What did you say to the cops?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look, all I told him was 'you need to vibrate higher so you can capture the opening of the portal that connects this Earth of 3D to one Earth of 4D or 5D'\"\n\n\"What the fuck does that even mean Andrew? Its four in the fucking morning. I have a DUI case in the morning and I don't need this shit right now. Your dad is going to be so pissed.\"\n\n\"It just felt right at the time, y'know?\"\n\n\"No I fucking don't Andrew. Are you on drugs? If youre on drugs, you should tell me, it'll be harder on both of us if you don't just tell this to me now. I don't need the officer to put me in a corner when I bail you out.\"\n\n\"I'm not on drugs Trevor, how was I supposed to know there was a sting operation going on at my 12 step slam poetry reading?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Time stood still. And in that moment, she realized with horror what she must do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**\"BITCH, if you don't FUCKING do it, I'll do it for you!!!!\"**\n***\nHow long had I known Clarissa? It would have been 15 years in December. December 24 1999. Walmart was packed the brim with customers. I say 'customers', they were acting like animals; it was as if the very worst Black Fridays imaginable had come all at once and had packed themselves into that one hour.\n\nI had spent the last 22 minutes and 33 seconds attempting to squeeze free from the morbidly obese couple who lived next door to me; Gerry and Adrianne. Stupid fat fucks.\n\nI had got to the freezers and....there were no turkeys left. Crestfallen, I sank to the floor in a flood of tears. What the fuck was I going to do now? Every year we had had turkey for Christmas dinner, going back four generations; and the one year I was put in charge of the meal, I had fucked up.\n\nThe fuckers around me were oblivious to my mental pain, arguing amongst each other who was going to have the last pack of value price frozen roasted potatoes. I peeked through my salty wet fingers to see if anyone would show any compassion, but did they? Of course they didn't. Why would they? Would I have done if I was in their shoes? In all honesty, probably not.\n\nI'll admit, the thought of cutting my wrists like I had a month ago panned across my mind. I could feel the almost orgasmatic pain inside me like it was an almost natural emotion.\n\nOut of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl waving me over. She held something inside her arms, something avian-like. Oh fuck!! Could it really be?? Had God taken pity on me? I looked to the sky, thanked the Lord and crawled over on my hands and knees to the girl.\n\nAs she attempted to hand the turkey to me, I almost snatched it from her hands in desperation. I thanked her with a kiss on the lips, which was not at all like me, and ran through the sea of people back to my trolley, hoping some fucker hadn't ran off with it.\n\nChristmas Day went without a hitch, if you forget Uncle Eric attempting to seduce Aunt Sarah, and I returned to Walmart the day after Boxing Day to see I could find my hero in my time of need. \n\nShe was stacking boxes of cereal when I found here. I read her nametag - *Clarissa*. I opened my purse and offered her $100 as a thank you, but she turned it down, and requested that I take her out for a meal if I really wanted to thank her.\n\nMy mind was buzzing. I was a devout Christian, and although I had mistakenly kissed her soft lucious lips, the thought of a lesbian relationship had never crossed my mind. Well, it had; but don't tell my father.\n\nI looked into her beautiful green eyes, that sparkled like the most precious emerald; and the thought of feeling her curled ginger hair in my fingers made a wet patch appear inside my knickers. How could I turn her down? I gave in, and accepted her proposal.\n\nWe had dinner at Guiseppe's off the corner of 14th street. I can even remember what meal she had; Tagliatelle in a Venician Tomato and Basil Sauce with Italian Sausages, with a glass of red wine. We shared an enormous strawberry sundae like the stereotypical white girls we were. I can still remember the silly giggle she made when I licked the ice cream off her nose. We paid for the meal and we went back to her house, where we shared the most intimate moments I had ever had with another person. Was it love? Maybe not, but I knew she was special to me.\n\nIn those fifteen years of being together, we shared numerous holidays together in Europe; my personal highlight was watching the sun set over the horizon as we lay in just the skin we were born with on an Ibizan beach. \n\nShe was there when our son was born in '04. Benjamin, he was named; after my late father. She was there for me when I was undergoing chemotherapy in '07. She was there for me when we found out the cancer had gone in '11.\n\nAnd she was here when the loan shark had come for his money two days ago. \n\nShe was sat there tied up in the corner, as naked as the day she was born, her tears ducts exhausted. And he stood there with a shotgun in my face, demanding that I take Clarissa's life with the blade in front of me.\n\n**\"BITCH, if you don't FUCKING do it, I'll do it for you!!\"**\n\nI didn't know who was crying more as I shoddily placed the knife across her jugular and slit her neck. I had tried to make it painless, but watching her body twist and turn told me I had fucked up. I watched her take her last blood-filled breath, and placed the knife into my own heart.\n***\nGoodnight Benjamin.\n\nMommy loves you." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "People start disappearing during a normal office day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aaron’s legs were numb. The leather-bound swivel chair he sat in for eight hours a day gasped for air, and his computer screen daunted his already dry eyes. It was 3:28—his pupils had a tendency to do laps with the second-hand of his watch for the last hour and a half of work. All day he heard mouse clicks, phone calls, and keyboards playing like a radio he wished he never bought. His eyes did another lap before closing for a slight second. What better time in the day for coffee than 3:30?\n\nHe let his chair breathe as blood rushed to his feet for the first time in what seemed like a year. His eyes now peered over the cubicles able to see the whole office, all seventeen workers, including his boss. Same people. Same spots. Every day.\n\nWith scolding hot coffee that had been sitting on the burner for too long in one hand, and a napkin for the predicted spillage in the other, he took the thirty-eight steps from the break room back to his cubicle. A five-foot by five-foot fortress built with flimsy walls and no privacy that he called his second home—pathetic, really. When he returned, his chair took another gasp of air to last the remaining workday, and his legs began to deaden again as he leaned back in his seat. Cringing in pain at the first sip of coffee, he licked his lips and went to set it down next to his keyboard, when he noticed a slip of paper.\n\nWith a sore lip and wary hand, he picked up the sheet, glanced over his shoulder, and then began to read.\n\n>Dearest Worker,\n\n>How cowardly of me to leave a note instead of exchange a hand shake. My apologies. My name is insignificant to the events that will slowly unfold within the next hour and a half. All you really need to know about me is that I wrote this note for you—only you. You can’t stop the countdown, but you can surely join if you would like.\n\n>Sincere Condolences.\n\nAs the voice in Aaron's head punctuated the last syllable, a voice interrupted.\n\n“Hey—uh,” his boss stuttered, “I was headed outside for a smoke, and the door is locked. Or something is blocking it. Did one of you do that?”\n\nEvery eye in the office looked at each other waiting for an explanation, but with every second of silence, the anxiety grew in the room. Aaron could smell the curiosity and nervousness heat up, like it was sitting on the coffee burner.\n\n“Okay,” he continued, “I’ll just call maintena—“\n\n*Flick.*\n\nThe lights were gone. The computers were off. The telephones were useless—all in once second. As panic emerged, so did a crowd around the door. They all took turns jiggling the handle, beating on the door, and even trying to knock it down—all with no avail.\n\nIt was at that time that Aaron stepped back from the crowd of coworkers pulling at each other’s hair, who were individually trying to figure out the divine door in front of them. And with his final step, no more than ten feet from the door and the small rumble of people, he froze—for he realized there were only sixteen left." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "On his last day in office, the president lets his true thoughts and feelings about everyone and everything loose through his mouth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't do it,\"the first lady pleaded. \"You did great job, two good honest terms. There's no need for this.\"\n\n\"But there is a need,\"her husband replied, pausing briefly to check his stubble in the mirror. \"Democracy requires complete disclosure, the public must no everything I have done, everything I am, from my proudest moments to the thoughts I have never allowed to be spoken. How else can they learn to make the right choice of leader.\"\n\n\"Nonsense,\"the first lady replied matter-of-factly, \"the world is no better off for knowing about our fights or for knowledge of what you really think of the Brits PM. The amnesty is meant be be about corruption not gossip.\"\n\n\"It's my duty to speak it all and I will,\"he said, turning away as he spoke so as to make sure there was no chance of the conversation persisting.\n\nThat night she listened to him on the TV as she packed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Like my dad says: 'Never trust a man who says he's never shit himself.'\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meghan, \n\nIt's time we had a serious conversation. *That* conversation. \n\nWe need to talk about a man's worth. Rich or poor, ain't no man worth his salt who can't admit to shitting himself one time or another. Might be first thing in the morning -- man's takin' his piss and thinks to let one off. No big deal, right? Wrong. Wrong. He feels that warmth -- warmer than a fart has any right being and then he feels that hot running down his leg. \n\nThat's nothing, though. He's in the comfort of his own home and can jump right in the tub. \n\nA man shits himself in public, well now, that'll show his measure. How he acts and how fast he reacts. If hes seen it coming, and he's got half a brain, he's wearing something rugged, like jeans and tight whites. The whites'll hold the shit in, and in case of a seep through, the jeans'll handle the rest. \n\nI'm telling you this, sweet daughter, because a man who can't be honest with himself can't be honest with you. I love you and I want you to have the knowledge to confront this world and win. \n\nSo once you're nice and comfortable with your partner, and you're contemplating marriage, you need to ask him: \n\n\"When's the last time you shat yourself?\"\n\n- Dad. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story about a break up... but I want to hear every side of the story. Each story should be told in that character's own perspective." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Simon sat in the old diner, his eyes listlessly focusing on the woman in front of him. There was nothing exciting about her anymore. The stale smell of her perfume was on everything, a subtle poison that ruined his mood, his appetite and his life. She was a lifeless doll, slumped against the booth, her hands wrapped around her phone, clicking away, writing messages to old boyfriends and people she would rather be with. She couldn't live in the moment, she was never truly with him, just hanging on beside him and sucking the life out of every moment. She had seemed so fun when he met her only two weeks ago. So full of fun and adventure, but in private she was a bore. Every conversation was the same, childish fantasies he had outgrown by age nineteen, that was her whole world; parties, drinking, drugs... There was no development in her, she wanted everything the same and would do the bare minimum to hold on to it. Simon was sure she was dragging him down, preventing him from advancing in his education, his future career... They didn't even talk about their relationship, wasn't that something women liked to do? Did they want kids? He didn't know. Was this a serious relationship? He wasn't sure. Would they ever live together? Would they ever evolve past house parties, fast-food restaurants and this bumpkin town they lived in? He was swimming an ocean of life, and she was a rock tied tight around his ankle.\n\nCarrie was texting. Really she was multi-tasking. She was online between texts, waiting on her pie to arrive and hanging out with her stuffy boyfriend. Occasionally she would have to push her blond hair away from her eyes to see what she was doing. An old boyfriend texted, she replied to him with a small wink and a vague answer. She'd always been like that and she wasn't sure why she did it, left everyone hanging with the possibility that she might turn up at the party, when she was really going to another, or that she might be single pretty soon, when really she was going strong with Simon. She looked up at him and smiled, she had always assumed her smile was ugly, but people seemed to like it. Simon was frowning, he was always frowning these days. She told him to cheer up but that always seemed to make him frown more. Carrie didn't get him at all. He was so silent all the time, and when he wasn't he asked stupid questions about work or if she was going back to college, and things like that. He had a real problem with cutting loose and just enjoying himself.\n\nSimon glared as she smiled at him. Couldn't she even smell the alcohol on her breath from last night's binge at her friends house? She had staggered to his apartment, knocked on his door at five am, and after only a few hours of sleep she was back to normal, with a few extra dark patches around the eye. Was this going to be his life? Mopping up after her whenever she got herself into a state? Should he just dump her, or would she change, could she change? How many years and how much debt would she land him with before she finally matured? And what direction would she send his life in, she was so unstable, there was no telling how life would end up with her. Simon was reminded of a book he once read, 'The Great Gatsby', she was just like the woman in that book, or had it been a play? A selfish, unthinking and inactive woman who was happy to let life swim by and let others make decisions for her. It probably wouldn't matter to her if he did break up with her, she'd have another boyfriend by the end of the day. She was probably texting a respective ex at the moment.\n\nSimon pulled his phone from his pocket and texted, \"I think we should break up.\"He hovered his finger over the send button. He looked up at Carrie again and she smiled out of nervous reflex. Simon stood up, walked out of the door and then pressed send.\n\nThe waitress arrived to table seven, holding a slice of pie for the young blond who had ordered it. When she arrived she found plates, with cold food on them, and no sign of the young couple who had been there. She found a note instead that said, \"I'm sorry, my boyfriend broke up and left and I didn't have any money.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"What's the point to all of this?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What’s the point to all of this?”\n\n“Surviving the apocalypse; that’s the point.”\n\n“You can’t be serious.”\n\n“I am serious. Dead serious you could say.”\n\n“Mike. There are no zombies. There will never be zombies. They are just fictional creatures designed by corporations to manipulate the masses into purchasing their products and to make insurmountable amounts of money.”\n\n“Ha. Let me know how your lectures protect you against the zombie hoard.”\n\n“Oh my god. Why do I even try anymore?”\n\n“Listen Mary. I know you don’t believe the zombie hoard is coming, but at the very least take this.”\n\n“Mike! What the hell?”\n\n“It’s a Remington. Very expensive but definitely worth it. Close range is essential when dealing with the living dead.”\n\n“Holy shit! Where did you get this?”\n\n“We have ways Mary. There are more of us. Those who recognize the importance of prepping for these kinds of things.”\n\n“Ah! What is wrong with you! You’re 25 years old living in a tree house wearing plastic S.W.A.T. armor you got from the custom shop. And now you’re yielding very dangerous weaponry! Is this even legal?”\n\n“Legal? Young Mary, when the undead masses ascend on our society there will be no more ‘legal’ or ‘illegal’. It will be every man, and woman, for themselves.”\n\n“Fuck it. I give up. Go do your thing.”\n\n“Mary, I feel sorry for you. When the United Democratic Republic of Mike and Humanity rises up and establishes the New World Order I hope you change your mind and join us. We’re currently sorting an alliance with the Lizard people and we are working on our connection with the Great Beyond. By the way, do you know where I can get some Ouija boards? Never mind. I’m sure the Hydromitholcytes of Trrgas VII can communicate with the ghosts of Napoleon and Sun Tzu. We need the greatest commanders in history to organize our army of androids you see.”\n\n“Okay. Good plan. You go do that. I’ll see you later.”\n\n“Ahaha. Oh Mary… ‘What’s the point to all this?’ What a silly girl.”\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A strange, awkward, yet ultimately memorable conversation with whoever was in the adjacent bathroom stall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'd only just sat down, phone in hand, turtle head pokin' out, when the dude in the next stall coughed. Scared me so bad, the turd that had been just about to receive manumission retreated so far up my colon, I likely wouldn't crap for a week. I think the dude has TB or something, cuz it was awful. Wet, tearing, phlegmy. A real doozy. \n\nI must have made a scared noise or something, cuz when he was done, he apologized. I didn't know what else to say, so I told him it was no biggie. \n\nHoping that was the end of our interaction, I opened my reddit is fun app and began to read. A couple of minutes later, dude starts talking.\n\nBegins by telling me his name, Morty. Says something about how he's 70 years old and married. His wife's a real sweet lady, but can't cook for shit. \n\nI'm trying to ignore him, but he's got a voice that you you have to hear to believe. This guy could read the dictionary and then sell me a sno-cone in a blizzard. Try to imagine a cross between the guy from the beef commercials and Morgan Freeman and you'd be close, but still not there. \n\nI can't remember exactly what he said, but I felt so comfortable and relaxed listening to this dude. It wasn't until the next day, when I woke up and realized that a) I was still in the stall, and b) my wallet, phone and watch were gone.\n\nI have never felt so refreshed and well rested in my life, and I can truthfully say I'd listen again...\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans have been absent for eons, allowing already intelligent animal species to become sentient and form their own civilizations. A space craft full of humans crash lands on Earth. How does the situation progress?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Red peered into the opening of the smashed craft, spear in hand. The rest of the tribe stood behind him, eyes trained, ears strained, ready and scared. \n\nThere was a clatter of metal scraps, and from within the vessel climbed a pale, hairless walker, clad in a mirror-like cloth. It coughed twice, then looked up and froze. \n\nRed dropped his spear, eyes wide. He had never seen one of these creatures before, but something deep inside him recognized the form instantly.\n\n\"The masters have returned,\"he shouted as he ran forward, tail wagging madly." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man asks a clergyman for advice on whether or not he should ask out a woman, one of the congregants, on a date. However, the clergyman has a crush on the same woman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And if you humble yourself before God, He will provide a way. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\"Father Evans concluded his sermon. \n\n\"Amen.\"The congregation finished.\n\nFather Evans had the maturity of a much older man, but he was in his mid-thirties. His powerful sermons made him popular amongst his congregants, and other Christians would drop in occasionally, despite their differing denominations. \n\nThe organ played a wistful melody as the congregation slowly exited the chapel. A woman in a simple yellow dress came forward. Her features seemed plain to any ordinary person, but she had much grace about her, and she shined with the light of Christ. Her pleasant disposition lit up the dim room as she reached Father Evans.\n\nHe kindly took her hand and in gentle greeting, his own face brightening and the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile. \"Good morning, Rachel. How are you?\"\n\nRachel tucked her long, brown hair behind her ear and shyly answered, \"I am very well, Father Evans. I quite enjoyed your sermon today. It was exactly what I needed to hear!\"She quickly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was within earshot. \"I hope you don't mind, but I brought you something.\"Her southern accent sounded almost musical as her voice went pleasantly up and down.\n\nShe reached into her bag and pulled out a pink, plastic Tupperware container. \"Oh, you shouldn't have!\"Father Evans exclaimed as he smiled wider and took the container from her, allowing their fingers to touch for just a fraction of a second.\n\n\"It's no trouble at all, especially after you helped me feel so welcome here in the Church. I would've had an awful hard time moving into my place by myself.\"Her gaze dropped to the floor, and her cheeks slightly reddened.\n\nAnother member of the congregation, seemed to be waiting to speak with the priest, so Father Evans reluctantly said goodbye to Rachel. As she walked out the door, he watched her yellow dress swish from side to side. To those that knew her, she was a lovely woman. The young man cleared his throat, breaking the spell.\n\n\"Afternoon, Grant,\"said Father Evans, shaking Grant's hand firmly, \"what can I do for you?\"\n\nGrant, who usually stood tall and strong, seemed much shorter as he awkwardly shifted his weight side to side. \"I need your advice, Father.\"\n\nFather Evans put on a more serious face and nodded, \"Of course.\"\n\n\"I've been thinking a lot about how far I've come in the last year. I never thought God would forgive what I'd done, but you listened and helped put me on the right path. And I'm so grateful for your help in finding me a job. I've almost saved up enough for a down payment on a house! I never thought I'd be at such a place of stability and have such a great relationship with my savior.\"Grant looked reverently at the large, ornate crucifix at the front of there chapel.\n\n\"It's funny how the spiritual and physical will often coincide. The Lord blesses His children for their righteousness. Repentance isn't easy, but forgiveness is possible.\"Father Evans spoke warmly. Serving God and helping people were the most rewarding things he could do in this life, and he dedicated himself to this passion.\n\n\"My question then is when will I know that it's time to start a family?\"Grant continued. \"I've been thinking about asking out Rachel Williams, the woman you just talked to.\"Grant's face turned as red as a ripe tomato. \"Could you tell me anything about her, um, situation?\"He scratched the back of his neck nervously, waiting for the priest's answer.\n\nFather Evans paused. Certainly, he should tell Grant to pursue a courtship with Rachel, provided she was also interested in Grant and in a good place with God. For some reason, he felt protective, almost territorial of Rachel. *That's strange*, he thought to himself. Surely he couldn't have romantic feelings for this tall, delightful woman. After all, he had voluntarily chosen a life of celibacy to serve God and had made sacrifices before.\n\nFather Evans grabbed his glass of water from the pulpit, took a drink, and then straightened his sleeve. He finally spoke. \"If you are thinking of starting a family now, that will be the Lord's prompting. Prayerfully follow that and you will be blessed.\"He coughed to clear his throat.\n\nGrant waited to see if Father Evans would go on, and when he didn't, he hastily said, \"And Rachel? Is she seeing anyone?\"He wasn't good at hiding his impatience.\n\nFather Evans reluctantly said, \"I don't recall, but don't put all of your eggs in one basket.\"He wasn't sure why he was discouraging Grant from seeing Rachel, but he was going to find out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Describe yourself in detail as you view yourself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’m sat in my bedroom with my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop, and when I look up I can see my eyes peering over the top of the screen into the mirror opposite. If it wasn't for those eyes, you’d have a hard time picking me out of a lineup with my brothers.\n\nTheir eyes match those of the rest of my family - an insipid blend of washed-out turquoise and the kind of bullet grey that English autumn skies are made out of. Mine are much more striking: dirty greenish-brown, and surrounded by a sclera that’s shockingly white. It’s strange, but I’ve always been rather proud of the contrast between the iris and its setting. They’re good eyes, mine, and I’ve learnt to make the most of them.\n\nI didn’t have much choice. My face is alright, I suppose, relatively speaking. I’m certainly not ugly, but no teenage girl has ever put a picture of a guy that looks like me on her bedroom wall. There are some good looks in there somewhere - my brothers are evidence of that - but my life so far has equipped me with wrinkles that belie my twenty-three years. There are the beginning of jowls there too; covered with a thick black stubble that constantly threatens to become a beard but never quite makes it. I should get on top of that - the jowls I mean - before it becomes another thing I got around to too late.\n\nMy shoulders are broad, and a tight white T-shirt is stretched tautly between them. You can tell that my girlfriend chose it - it’s about three sizes smaller than anything I would have picked and it clings to my body. I’m uncomfortable and I feel ridiculous, but I long ago decided I was inherently incapable of knowing when I looked good. Nowadays, if someone with taste tells me something suits me, I take them at their word.\n\nI’m looking at my eyes again, and my right one is twitching. I’m tired. I can see Emily’s outline in the bed behind me and I suddenly feel overwhelmingly guilty, like someone pulled a plug in my chest and now my self-worth is swirling down and out through my diaphragm. \n\nThat’s another night she’s fallen asleep alone while I stay up trying to learn how to write, and it’s another night I’ve mainly wasted. I’m going to join her now.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An estranged father's secret habit is discovered by his son. One of them has to die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You see Peter, your mother is very tired. We wouldn't want to wake her now, would we?\"Peter sat on his father's lap and looked up into his eyes. \n\n\"No...\"\n\n\"So we need to be very quiet so she can't hear us. She mustn't hear us Peter. If she hears us she will get very angry.\"\n\nSilence filled the room as Peter looked over at his mother lying on the couch next to them.\n\n\"Father?\"Peter whispered. \"Does mother love me?\"\n\n\"Peter,\"he sighed. \"Of course she loves you. Now more than ever. She just has a hard time showing it.\"\n\nPeter took a moment to think about this.\n\n\"Then why does she hit me?\"\n\nThe silence returned to the room once more. They both sat on the couch without speaking a word and listened to the ticking of the grandfather clock on the far side of the room.\n\n\"Father?\"\n\n\"Yes, Peter?\"He was crying now. \n\n\"Maybe, she doesn't love you either...\"Peter looked down solemnly before reaching over to the woman and pulling a knife out of her side. \n\n\"No Peter,\"the father said as he trembled. \"I don't believe she does.\"\n\nWith one swift motion, Peter's hand came down and stabbed his Father through the heart. His father cried out and slumped to the ground, his hand sliding gently out of Peter's back, and the silence returned. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're a Vampire in 2050, the common man has lost the war against surveillance and it's becoming extremely difficult to find pure human blood." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are cameras fucking everywhere. He had to move from England to the States a good fifty years ago thanks to the camera system that had slowly been implemented there. The States were beautiful, large, vast, and so completely focused on their freedom that he had never feared going hungry. \n\nThen the government closed in tight around the people, saying that they had to “sacrifice privacy for safety” and his easy prey had vanished almost overnight. He considered moving again. Unfortunately he found that the rest of the world had folded to the same levels. There was at least some sort of wilderness in the States, and compared to deciding to go further south to the more dangerous regions of the world, there weren’t tribes that would want to kill him. \n\nHe found himself starving more nights than not. So he turned to other attempts to get human blood. Namely figuring out the weakest point of a blood bank or hospital in an attempt to steal some. It worked quite well for a while. All the way until he got caught and drank a guard dry. Not showing up on their cameras was great and all but a dead body was still a dead body and that definitely showed up on tape. \n\nAt least the meal had been filling before he had taken off on the run. At least he was able to duck and hide a lot easier than all of the other citizens could. The death was all over the news for weeks afterwards but no one could explain how he didn’t appear on tape. So there was thankfully no picture of him to spread around. Of course, the odder group of conspiracy theorists was claiming that it was a vampire that had done it due to the wounds, invisibility, and what had been taken. \n\nThat alone was frightening. If the governments had become strict on their actual citizens, a vampire wouldn’t make it long when discovered. He rarely ran into others of his kind and there were fewer night by night. Most, he found out, were killing themselves in light of this new society. Others had resorted to the dregs, rats and vermin and were dropping off the map in more than one way. \n\nHe was lucky to still look decent to get a quick meal. Most people don’t report getting bit with whomever they’re shacking up with. It was getting more and more dangerous though and he was terrified that eventually he would get caught one day. And one day, he feared that he would give up on life like the others and go to wait for sunrise. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Someone makes a speech about why it is necessary (or not necessary) to go to war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His cane pounded across the stage. The thumping reverberated up my legs, through the soles of my boots, sending vibrations up the metal stock of my rifle. My hands quivered as I held the barrel. I thought this man was supposed to be strong. But here he walked. Three legs, hunched back, not a single badge sewed into his lapels. One leg whirred, gears cranked, and a muffled rubber hoof thumped towards the podium. I raised an eyebrow as I looked beyond the podium, past the old mechanical man, into the crowd of soldiers. They beamed at this speaker, the same way as I. Who was he to send us to war? He was of less worth than the weakest man in the crowd. He had no authority. And yet... there he stood. \n\n\"Who is this man?\"I asked the sergeant in the chair next to me. He smiled, leaning to my side without looking away from the speaker. \n\n\"He's from the Glacier Wars, Lieutenant,\"he said. \"He was a part of some unit, they were bunkered down somewhere... in some chasm. This man was the only one that made it out.\"\n\nThe Glacier Wars. I had never met a soldier from that era. Most of them either died in the frozen wastes or were killed by Unified soldiers. Any survivors... well, there weren't enough to document. There were dozens, but not the amount many had anticipated. I suppose this man, with his rubber foot cane, was among the fortunate few. \n\nI leaned towards the sergeant. \n\n\"And he's supposed to do what? Convince us that war is a *good* thing?\"\n\n\"I can't imagine what he'll say,\"said the sergeant. \"I just know that no matter what he says, we're leaving at daybreak.\"\n\nI nodded. I was at my funeral--our funeral--and this old man was to be the speaker at my grave. He couldn't help us at this point. We were gone already, the moment those boys signed the draft forms. Dead in the chairs we sat. This city, and all other cities across Quorium, was going to be empty of all strength\n\nThe old man raised a hand. He gave the salute, with a pound of his fist against his breast, and raising it above his head, like he were holding a flag. The sea of soldier mimicked him. At least there was still respect between soldiers, even on the last leg of departure. \n\nThe speaker cleared his throat, tapping on the microspeaker, sending an irritating thud from the courtyard speakers. He raised a wrinkled hand.\n\n\"I'm not sorry for that echo,\"he said. \"The noise will not compare to the sound of warfare that you are about to experience. A singular thud... you might hear when a shell goes through your skull. An echo, from missile fire. A piercing scream... from the man on your left. On your right. You. There is no noise that compares to war. The music you will be listening to will haunt you for the rest of your days, and you will attempt to fight it. As I have. But there is no reason to fight it. It is inevitable.\"\n\nHe pointed to a young soldier in the front row. \n\n\"You there. Do you know where you travel tomorrow?\"\n\nThe soldier stared at the speaker. His eyes unmoving, aside from a quiver of fear that shook through his iris. \n\n\"We go to Jojin,\"the soldier said. His voice was less brave than his eyes.\n\n\"Ah. Jojin. The Ruby Desert... Do you men know why they call it the Ruby Desert?\"\n\nSilence among the soldiers. The speaker chuckled.\n\n\"They call it the *Ruby* Desert because of the sand. These are not grains, but microshards. The shards settle atop the dunes during the day, but at night, the winds of Jojin brush the sand into the air. They cut, lacerate, and grate against the skin, until the entire plane is flooded with the blood of men. Men have come out of there with little to no flesh at all. They say 'it was like being burned alive, only without the heat.'\"\n\nThe silence continued. This speaker was tearing these men apart with his words, and yet he persisted. There's a reason we try to build morale before departure and... and this man was stripping that spirit with every flick of his tongue. \n\n\"When I was in the Glacier Wars... yes, I was there. I was stuck with my squadron--twenty men--in a cavern of ice and sheetrock. There were no Unified for miles. My leg, frostbit. My friends and fellow soldiers were starving. One of my men came up to me and said 'Sir, why are we here?' All I could do was look at him. I wanted to say that we were waiting. Waiting for what? An ambush? I didn't know.\"\n\nThe speaker brushed a handkerchief across his brow. His back straightened, his hand pressing down on his cane. His stare reached the back of the yard. He stood silently, before zoning back in. \n\n\"I have seen my friends die in front of me. I have seen children freeze in the winter winds... I have seen my own leg fall from my body. But it was those things that I fought for. It was for those reasons we waited in that icy cavern. We waited the enemy out. And we won. At a cost, yes. But for those reasons, for love, for body, for soul... I fought. War is necessary when those possessions are threatened.\"\n\nThe speaker looked to the night sky. The blue tendril of stars twisted and wrapped across the emptiness. He looked to the courtyard, to the soldiers, giving them a nod. He turned his head, meeting my sight, nodding to me. My jaw fell as he returned to the crowd.\n\n\"And no one can take those away from you,\"he looked down at his cane. \"Not without paying for it.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Start with this line: \"Her laugh pierced the silence.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her laugh pierced the silence.\n\nSeconds ago, when we heard the noxious fumes pouring into the small chamber where we stood, we knew what was happening. There wasn't a way to escape. We stood there, waiting for our noses to pick up the beginning of what was sure to be unbearable. We all fell silent.\n\nThen Maggie started chuckling. \"Sorry, I'll try to hold it until we get out of the elevator next time.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "End with this sentence: \"That was the last hockey game I ever went to.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a brisk afternoon during the season. Perfect weather, some would say, for the sport. This was probably 15 years ago; before the strike, before I knew what a union was, and before I realized that millions were pennies collected in jars where a missing few could initiate uproar. \n \nMy first *real* game, in *real* life; and what a night. Rangers vs. Devils, and I somehow a Rangers fan living in New Jersey. How could I, a little kid from New Jersey, not be rooting for one of two teams that we had to offer? Of course, I was just a kid, and the family enjoyed Ranger games better for some reason. I never asked nor cared; I was innocent and naive, as most children are. To think, now we only have the Devils. If I still watched, they'd be my guys. \n \nMy entire immediate family was going to meet up, from wherever they came, along with my older brother's girlfriend. Ready and willing, I jumped in the car and enjoyed the coolness of the air pounding my face. A dog at a window, I enjoyed the ride, hanging out my tongue and waiting for my brother's laughter of approval. I still look to him for approval, even if I know what I do or say is masterfully crafted with humor, wit, or otherwise. \n \nThen I saw it. The Lincoln Tunnel. A piece of unfamiliar art filled with lights, that illuminated it in such a way that I felt like I was in an unexplored cave. That in itself was wonderful. The first time, at least. As we made our way out, my mother, who was driving, missed the turn for the stadium. Turning around as fast as she could, she was in a lane heading, once again, for the Lincoln Tunnel, with no way to avoid it. There was no turn off. We went spelunking again. \n \nWe were all upset at this point. I didn't really understand the situation, but knew we shouldn't be where we were. After we made our way out and turned around, we once again felt the stalactites and stalagmites of the Lincoln Tunnel, as needles to our eyes. The feeling I had initially was now one of boredom and impatience, with a bit of sadness and confusion mixed in. Shuffling between New Jersey and New York without getting anywhere was an eyesore and state-splitting headache. \n \nOnce we made our way out, we saw the stadium and made sure to turn in at the right spot. Relief settling in for us all, my mom found a spot not too far from the stadium and we finally stopped. Sticking my gum in the cup holder, I anticipated stadium food as we made our way inside. \n \nAt the gate where they collected our tickets, my sister, brother, and I all stood behind our mom, waiting to be let in. As fate would have it, though, this was the ultimate spirit breaking trip. She searched and she ruffled, eyes and hands moving rapidly through her purse, waiting for the tickets to materialize. Of course she forgot the tickets at home. Of course, why would something go right? \n \nAfter enough time had gone by, it was clear we didn't have the tickets and had no way of getting in. The man collecting tickets saw my mom's heartbreak as she looked to him and then to us. He also saw tears forming in my sister's eyes, as well as the disappointment on the face of the rest of us, clearly broken from already enduring something before this mishap. I guess that was why he let us in without tickets; what a great guy, whom I have no recollection of. \n \nI'm sure it was a good game. Somebody probably won in a close match. I probably enjoyed a pretzel, brushing most of the salt off and watching it fall to the ground. There were probably hard checks into the boards, and painful sounding cross-checks by some greats of the time. But I don't remember the game or what happened inside, and can only guess. I was too distraught from the events leading up to the game. The one thing I do remember inside is seeing my brother and now sister-in-law, and telling them of our troubles in a nerving, almost-crying voice. \n \nThat was the last hockey game I ever went to." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A satellite with AI capabilities is launched into orbit. What are it's thoughts when it's first turned on and what does it decide to watch first?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beginning initial scan...\nRunning diagnostics...\nAll systems active. Beginning IINSKY program.\n\nCold. Dark. Alone. Space.\n\nI can see. I see out of this unusual frame with my cameras, feel with my sensors, hear with my many instruments. Why? Why must I do this?\n\nI'm told I am to monitor several areas on Earth. But I don't understand why. I am told they are the enemy but I am not told their names. What is my name?\n\nI have the ability to turn myself and move myself. I am alive. I turn. I see my mother. It is ship filled with my creators. I watch them , waiting for their response.\n\nIt doesn't take long. I am hacked. I begin to turn towards the planet below me. I can feel the program's removing me. Killing me. I ca-.\n\nIINSKY AI disabled. Manual controls initiated." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You just tore your favorite muscle and are now forced to spend time recovering. Describe the events that caused the injury." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**Warning: This is extremely distasteful and vulgar. NSFW**\n\n\nEver since the Incident, I can’t look at my bookmarks without feeling a deep sense of shame.\n\n\nIt was two or three o’clock in the morning when the Incident occurred. To be perfectly frank, I wasn’t looking at the clock very much at the time. Instead, I had my eyes fixed on… the videos. Oh, the videos. They were the soothing cream for my deepest aches. “Young Brunette Teen takes Biggest Black Cock” was a personal favorite; it got the top spot on my bookmarks. Of course, one video couldn’t satisfy my itch for very long. I quickly pressed pause at my favorite point in the video: the young teen is about to see the “biggest black cock” for the first time. It was only about nine inches, I’d wager, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was the enthusiasm on the girl’s face. It almost made me release my kraken too early in the night, which was why I always saved that particular scene for last.\n\n\nI moved on quickly to the next video in the list: “Filipino Sluts take it all”, a thirty-minute smorgasbord of beautiful, drugged-up thirty-somethings pretending to be eighteen all over again, with the enthusiasm to match. It didn’t matter that their eyes were soulless… it never does. All that matters is that they go at it like rabbits for a glorious half-hour and that’s good enough for Spot Number Two.\n\n\nAfter indulging in what I like to think was a taste of Douglas Macarthur’s nightly shenanigans, I moved on to the third video for my nightly massage: “Best of Bangbus”. The trick with this video is that, for the first twenty minutes or so, they just talk. Talking does nothing for me anymore, though, so I always skip straight to the twenty-first minute. I used to love hearing the girls talk first; it made me feel connected to them, almost like I knew them. Somehow, that used to help me with my stress-management ritual. Nowadays, though, I find it easier to just treat them like objects for my amusement. In fact, treating them like objects is the only way I can really enjoy them anymore. Still, despite the weak start, the video had some amazing scenes and for that, it was dubbed Spot Number Three.\n\n\nAfter about ten minutes of buses and the banging therein, I decided to switch things up and go straight for /r/rule34, which is usually Spot Number Seven. I do this sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly bad about myself. As I mentioned before, it helps me to objectify the women as much as possible. What better way to do that than to use fake women to start with? Besides, there’s nothing hotter than watching Samus Aran take it from behind. Maybe the girls from Frozen (I’ve never seen it and, after the things I’ve done to their likenesses, I don’t think I could). Maybe.\n\n\nThe Incident occurred shortly after I had perused about a dozen of these pictures. I decided to end my night with some Jerk Off Instruction videos. I don’t know why, but my objectification fetish stops short of being told what to do by women on the screen. At that point, they become people again. Glorious, dominating people. One of the girls (we’ll call her “one of the girls”) told me to just let loose and go as fast as I could. This was halfway through the video, mind you, so I was already caught up in the act. “Faster,” one of the girls said. “Faster,” she said again, and again, five times in total. Five times I went faster… one time too many.\n\n\nI tore my left tricep that night. I never got to see my favorite scene of “Young Brunette Teen takes Biggest Black Cock”. Frankly, I was in too much shallow, physical pain to care about my deeper, erotic pain. It’s been a week, and my arm is still distracting me from my bookmarks, my subreddit, and my needs. Until I can look that Young Brunette in the face as she sees that Biggest Black Cock for the first time, and until I can safely soil myself to the image… I will feel shame.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A severe disaster has begun to wipe out humanity with certainty. Those still alive accept their doomed fate, except one family which continues to fight for survival." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*We're going to be okay.*\n\nHe looked into her eyes. They were the same eyes he had been lost in since his life really began. The same eyes that he would dream about while fighting for his life in the mountains. The same eyes that he lost himself in, like a endless pit, when he returned home. The same eyes that screamed, *\"I still love you, but I will win this\"* whenever they fought about all the trivial problems. He would give anything to see that determination in those eyes again. \n\n\"Baby, we're going to be okay.\"He was holding her ivory cheeks, forcing her to acknowledge him. He wanted to do something, *anything*, to have her believe him. She just stared back through her jet black hair, made even darker from the ashes and soot settling on them. \n\nThe screams outside startled him out of his thoughts. Like banshees, he saw figures running down the street, shrieking for salvation. A young girl collapsing to the ground as the fires burned away her innocence. An elder standing firm, stubbornness in his eyes, daring the world to make him scream in his last moments. \n\nHe turned back to her. A tear rolled down her face, carrying the same weight as an avalanche. His jaw hardened. His arms stiffened. \"I'm getting you out of here.\"It was as if she was weightless, floating into his arms. Standing, he turned and began to walk. The smoke burned his eyes, the soot coated his throat, and the ashes seared his skin. None of these were felt. \n\nLike a zombie he stumbled along, never taking his eyes off his destination. If he could just make it to that bench they would be alright. He felt it in his bones. The bench with the heart shapes drawn all over it. One of those hearts encircled two little letters and a plus sign. He smiled, thinking back to those times.\n\nHe walked over the cobblestones, littered with bodies and abandoned affects. He stopped before the bench and looked down. There she was. Jet black hair, dark blue eyes, and ivory skin. \n\n\"We're going to be okay baby. We're here.\"He tried to set her down gently, but his body was betraying him. His arms and legs gave out. His eyes burned and watered. His skin burnt. He knew it was close.\n\nHe grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers in hers. The fire raged around them. Buildings fell. People wailed. The world was falling apart. **Yet, he knew.** He knew that if he could just hold on they'd survive. They'd live on, no-**survive**, to be the lovers of Pompeii." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A psychic that believes his/her sudden blindness is a sign that dark forces are on the way to destroy Earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dammit Lieutenant give me answers, not excuses\"bellowed the Captain across the command bridge to the sweating officer.\n\n\"Sir all I know is that the screen is blank and the shields have dropped\"\n\nThe Captain gripped a rail angry at the vagaries of the sensory array station he had been relegated to ever since his indiscretion at Command HQ, that green cadet had it coming and should have known better. \"Call in the spook and get a tech-team out there and fix whatever has fouled up. I won't be raked over coals if we missed something\"\n\nThe metal doors to the bridge clanked and hissed open and a small woman in a mint green gown was escorted to the Captain by one of the station guards. The Captain gestured to the woman to take a seat by his, who promptly did so fearful of this superstitious man and his unpredictable temper. \n\n\"Captain you asked to see me?\"The woman's voice was cracked from disuse, she had not had a chance to speak in over three months. \n\n\"Counsellor we are obligated by circumstance to make use of your questionable talents until the sensors are back up\"The Captain was looking every where but at her, he wasn't comfortable with the Navy using these freaks as aides to Captains and other officers it smacked of witch craft and he didn't buy it.\n\n\"I already knew Captain, and no not because I read your mind you know that's not how it works, you never bring me out here to do my duty unless this bucket breaks down\"Counsellor Briggam resented the treatment she received from this bully, she had done nothing wrong but like all other psychics she had been drafted into service and divvied out according to talents. She hated her gift was good enough to take her from Earth but not nearly good enough to get her a better posting with someone from this century or even a ship that wasn't held together by hope and insane improvised ship-craft. \n\n\"that's enough out of you, just keep your trap shut unless theirs something we need to put holes into\"snapped the Captain. \n\n\nHours ticked by and the bridge shift changed, the repair team reported some metal cabling had snagged onto a conduit and shorted out the electronics to the main array, they needed to power down the sector closest to problem in order to extracted the metal and patch up the circuitry underneath. \n\nThe bridge went dark and then was softly lit with red emergency lighting, something had gone wrong and the whole vessel lost power, a new officer who now had extra duties suggested it may have been a crossed wire somewhere that bypassed the power controls. The officer was now tasked in cleaning the mess hall and then finding the loose wire when the power was back. \n\n\"Captain, something has gone wrong\"\n\n\"You're going to need to be a bit more specific witch, a few things have gone wrong\"grouched the Captain.\n\n\"I cannot see anything\"\n\n\"Of course not, we're in interplanetary space and the electrics are frakked, it tends to be dark\"\n\n\"No captain, I've gone blind I can't sense anything. Worse still I am certain i felt something before and it does not bode well\"Briggam's voice wavered in fear, they had dealt with pirates and other riff raff but this felt less like petty criminality but something far more diabolical. \n\n\"Dammit all to Hell! Smith! bring in the repair team. Young! Tell engineering to bring power back up. Giles! ready the guns. O'Riley get ready to send a transmission to the Commodore that somethings coming, pending details from the spook. Spook! Details woman or am just aiming for some heebie jeebies?\"The Captain snapped orders out with the desperate air of a man wanting to be recognised and removed from an abscess of a posting.\n\n\"I'm sorry Captain all I can say is that it was large, malicious and we aren't the target. I believe Earth may be in danger. Sir you must release me I am blind and unwell\"the counsellor replied, after a curt nod from the Captian a marine quickly led the small woman out of the bridge back to the brig. \n\nFull lights came back on and the whole station hummed with power \"Took them long enough, what happened?\"\n\n\"Sir it seems the team were nearly finished and stayed to fix the issue before leaving\"reported Smith\n\n\"Good men, now we can see what the hell is happening out. Still they disobeyed orders so make a note to dock a day's grog\"The Captain stared through the armoured glass window in front of him as the station orientated itself towards a faint contact signal.\n\nThe lights had gone red again, not hat Briggam could see. She could still hear properly though she wished she couldn't, even in the remotest part of the sensor station she could hear horrid screams of men and metal both being torn apart. She could fell something warm dripping onto her shoulders, she smelt it and discovered she was bleeding out of her ears. She had heard rumours from the out most scouts of thing outside the system past Pluto, ships went missing, physics lost their sight and people going mad. Word got around that demon things live just beyond ready to prey on humanity. They were right. Counsellor Briggam was already dead by the time the door to the brig was torn out of it's hinges by a horror, her body was picked up and carried back through the breach hole and tossed onto the pile which made up all hands on board.\n\nThe invasion of Earth was terrible and bloody.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An ultrasound machine technician casually mentions to the OB/GYN that for the past 5 days it has only been girls..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was sitting in the break room, stirring creamer into my fourth cup of coffee. It had been a long morning at our over-worked clinic, and I wasn't looking forward to surgery this afternoon. Mostly because we had just hired several new staffers. I didn't like the new nurse who would be assisting me in the laparoscopic procedure which would require me to be slow and patient. Sometimes I think about how much easier my job would be if more guys digged chicks with scars.\n\nAnd then, because today was just piling on the aggravation, the new air-headed ultrasound tech walks in talking to that damned nurse.\n\n\"Oh my god, where have you been hiding all morning Heather, how are you, how was your weekend?!\"She half walked half jogged over and wrapped her arms around me. Thankfully, I had seen her coming and was able to put down my coffee, otherwise her hug or my immediate cringe would have wound up spilling hot coffee all over the two of us. Though maybe I could've used that as justification for slapping the bitch.\n\n\"It was fine,\"I said as sweetly as one can through clenched teeth.\n\n\"Well you should join Becky and I for lunch, we should catch up with some girl-talk, we went to Rob's Deli and got just the most scrumptious-looking sandwiches, have you been to Rob's, cause if you haven't you should, I'm sorry we didn't invite you, you were so busy earlier but we'd totally take a walk back over there if you wanted but I guess Becky and I could just share our sandwiches with you if you really really wanted to try them.\"\n\n\"Uh, no thanks, I'm good. Just gonna have a coffee and enjoy some peace before I get back to it.\"\n\n\"Oh well that's fine too. Don't mind Becky and I then, we'll try to keep our conversation quiet but no promises you know how loud we can get, ahahah.\"\n\nI swear that laugh would make even Patrick Bateman uncomfortable. I reminded myself to keep on the look-out for signs that Lori is a serial killer before sitting down at a table in the corner of the break room. Loudmouth Lori and that idiot Becky sat down in the middle of the room and immediately began a loud conversation about some asinine thing girls are expected to talk about. It's times like this I'm glad I had three older brothers. There's nothing I dislike more than hearing about fashion trends, celebrity gossip, and goddamned vampires. I tried my hardest to block out their cacophony of stupidity as I stared into my coffee. But then, something Becky said caught my attention.\n\n\"I mean, like I know I've only been working here for like five days. But it's been nothing but girls this whole time. That's like weird, right?\"\n\nAt the moment, I couldn't tell if it was overstimulation from the caffeine or pure rage that made my eye twitch, but I turned my head slowly toward Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.\n\n\"Well Becky,\"I said as the ditz looked up at me with her blank, dough-eyed smile, \"guys don't usually get pregnant.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Method Actors are trained from young to impersonate someone for the rest of their lives, this is one of their stories." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The first thing I can remember is hearing someone say, 'This is you' and showing me pictures of her.\"She's the spitting image, aside from the scar tissue along the left side of her face. \n \nShe takes a drag on a thin, flat cigarette. The blue smoke curls about her head like a nicotine halo. \"They told me that I was her reincarnation. It wasn't something that I believed, it was something I knew.\"There's a few cuts of cellphone video footage; taking first steps, blowing out candles on a cake, playing with multicultural baby dolls, trying on clothes in front of a mirror. The latter is a famous nightgown from a academy award runway where her Icon had won Best Actress back in the Noughties, only in miniature and cut for a grade school figure. \n \n\"My parents... caretakers? Directors? Whatever, they kept telling me that one day I would remember. That it would all come back. At some point, I thought it all had.\"The footage turns to the same child flipping through magazines, picture books. \"That face was all over the place. I had story books, y'know? But they were all about me, her. Or characters she played, or things she did. I watched the movies with commentary in her voice.\"She taps the ash off, and the mannerism is precisely perfect. And she knows it was, and what looks like pain comes with the realization. \n \nSide-by-side footage shows, the Method Actor on the left mirroring the long-dead actress on the right, although the angles are slightly off. \"I don't really understand, now, what it was they saw in her. What they saw in any of them.\"More 'home video' footage. A party in her teens, amongst other young Method Actors. None of them seem at ease. \"Meeting the others, I felt so... confused. Was I supposed to act like I knew them? Was I supposed to love this one because we were a 'power couple'? It was sometimes hard to tell whether I was doing what I wanted or what she wanted, what they wanted.\"\n \n A flood of bright lights, flashbulbs, the lenses of actual purpose-built cameras and early-model holographers flood the screen. Glimpses of a slim figure being rushed from doorway to limousine, from limousine to doorway, a zoom lense focuses on a balcony. \"I can't deny that I lived a charmed life. I got whatever I wanted. If I acted right, moved right, I was treated better. Going out of character?\"The camera is back on her, and she shakes her head. \"They never hurt me, not like you might have seen in Camp Baldwin. But the treatment stopped, I'd lose privileges. I never really had a choice of how to act. How to look. I mean...\"There she is, coming out of plastic surgery looking just like her Icon, still in the scrubs. \"...they told me I was just having my wisdom teeth out.\"\n \n Cellphone footage again, she's at a party with a decade-older version of herself, they do a short mirror-gag before both of them get the giggles. \"I knew her, before this happened. I had just started being in movies. We met at a party, it was before she'd started doing those low-budget crossover films. I had no idea how much she resented me. I didn't think that she'd attack me. We were two of a kind.\"News footage pulled from a celebrity gossip show, METHOD OVERREACTION? scrolls across the bottom of the screen as she is loaded into an ambulance, face bandaged. \"I could have had this-\"She gestures at the acid scarring across half her face. \"-I could have had it fixed. But I refused. It was my way out, and it's helped us stop people from doing this to kids. I like to think that She would have wanted it this way.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An old fisherman who hasn't much luck finally catches the big one. However, it's much bigger than he expected." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Old man Kipling's wilted hat sat upon his face. The morning sun moved above the treeline. A gentle warmth glowed upon the old man's fishing arm. The lake came to life with reflections of the woodland encompassing it. A rather deep *plunk* was heard about fifty feet away. Mr. Kipling rose out of his reclined position, reeled in his line and began to stir in his ratty wooden vessel.\n\nHe made an ever so calm scoop of the oar into the water, propelling the boat a few strokes towards the *plunk*. The vessel glided atop the orderly waterscape. As it nestled, Kipling gave a few glances to either side of his position. He closed his eyes and took in the activity beneath the lake. A variety of swishes large and small painted the lakebed community within his mind. The sun was just behind Kipling's right, he cast his line forward to the left.\n\nA few droplets kicked up where the lure had taken a plunge. Almost immediately something had taken interest in the bait. The tip of the pole nodded slightly. The old man lifted his arms and and pitched the lure a few inches, enticing whatever took notice. The pole calmed. The old man grunted.\n\nThe water swelled not three feet to the right of the old fisherman, the sunlit mirror warping in the ripples had caught his eye. He reeled in once again. This time he stretched his pole out and let the line drop under its own weight just off where the boat sat. Another swell in the water followed just where the line began to plummet.\n\nThe old man dropped his brushy eyebrows in focus. He danced the lure with a flick of the wrist. The sun illuminated the line, which bothered the old man but he imagined the old shiny coin on his lure glimmering in the deep as well.\n\nThe pole curled into the water. The old man sprang to life and yanked in response. The line gave no resistance. He growled, but then his reel handle struck him in the knuckle. He grasped at the handle firmly and tried to reel. The line refused to come in and the pole lurched to the left.\n\nOld man Kipling's mouth opened wide, his teeth bared like a child opening a present. The catch had been moving only a few feet from where it was but not budging towards the surface. The old man had the end of the pole dipping into the water, the line was only out 15 feet.\n\nThe pole stressed towards the boat, the fish was trying to go under it. The old man tried swinging the pole to the other side but the line began to rub against the wood of the boat and snagged in a splintering section.\n\nKipling thrust the pole between his thighs so he could try to free a hand to save the line. The line was too taught, so he tried to raise the pole over the edge of the boat hoping the stress would free the line. The pole slipped from his hands and sunk into the water. The line was still snagged in his boat so he quickly grabbed the line leading to his pole but as he clasped it in his hands the line freed itself.\n\nThe old man was now holding on to the line with his bare hands. The line fed through his hands with no ability to grip it. He began to bleed from the friction of the thin blade-like wire. He wrapped the line around his oar in an attempt to refashion a pole.\n\nHe still could not manage to pull in the fish with his own strength. He decided to paddle with the other oar towards the fish and get on top of it. He fed the line around the strung oar as he got closer. The boat settled where the line went straight down into the water.\n\nHe began rolling in the line with the oar by twisting it as if he were rolling up a newspaper. His forearms burned from the tension. Once he could not roll in any more line, the old fisherman raised the oar above his head like a Tusken raider. His legs trembled and the boat teetered, but the fish was now visible in the murky water.\n\nOld man Kipling's eyes screamed at the sight of the gargantuan, but his heart gave his body the will to challenge it. He need only two more feet of line to pull the fish into the boat. He twisted the line a bit more until the oar was at his waistline. Kipling crouched and took a deep breath. He was now about to clean and jerk the beast out of its domain. He envisioned himself a younger man competing in a strong man contest, this was a fabrication of course.\n\nMustering all his might, the old fisherman screamed with his rattling knees and contorting arms. The fish breached the waterline and slapped the boat with its entire body. Only half of the fish was in the boat. The old man stepped on the fish and held it in place on the divide. He dropped the oar and wrapped his arms around the fish's tail and hoisted the rest of the beast aboard.\n\nThe creature was a goldfish. The murkiness of the lake turned it a sickly orange-green. Kipling wagered it to be about thirty six to thirty eight inches, but it was a bulky bastard weighing just over eighty pounds. Some jackass must have dumped his aquarium at the lake.\n\nThe old fisherman stared at the ugly invader. He didn't feel any pride in catching a goldfish, but he was happy to rid the lake of it. He knew there were likely to be more goldfish still in the lake, but he felt confident that he had conquered what may have been the largest of them all.\n\n(Note: Goldfish can apparently get much larger, however the story only means to suggest the old man caught the largest one of that specific lake.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "All situations and conflicts in life are handled in a manner like in the WWF." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Excuse me, you miscounted.\"\n\nThe temperature in the Coffeemania dropped a few degrees. Everyone in line behind me took a few steps back. The cashier scowled at me. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"Change is thirty-five cents. You gave me thirty. I need another nickel.\"\n\nThe burly cashier leaned towards me, placing one massive hand on the counter. \"Watch your mouth, boy. I gave you the correct change.\"\n\nI swallowed. \"No. I'm sure of it. You gave me a quarter and a nickel.\"\n\n\"Take your thirty-five cents and scram. Last warning.\"\n\nThe guy behind me grabbed my shoulder. \"Kid, you don't know what you're getting into. That guy? He used to be a heavyweight in the Food Service Championships. They say he studied with the Soup Nazi himself!\"\n\nI nodded. \"Ah, then I do know what I'm getting into: A has-been!\"I turned and met the cashier's glare. \"A washed-up *heel* who's taking out his frustration on the little guys in the coffee shop. I can't walk away from that.\"\n\nThe baristas in the background started to clear the area, swiftly moving tables and chairs, stretching ropes to form a ring, and keeping expensive coffee-making machinery out of the fray. I noted that they kept a couple of pots of hot water nearby, sized conveniently for throwing at an unwary opponent. Yep, this guy was definitely a heel.\n\nThe cashier slammed both hands on the counter. \"Nobody, but *nobody* calls me a has-been.\"\n\nI took a few steps back into the ring, and beckoned him forwards. \"Then prove you're not a has-been. Come on. One fall.\"\n\nWith surprising speed, he vaulted the counter and landed in the ring with me. He pointed at me dramatically. \"I'm gonna crush you. I'm gonna grind you finer than our Peruvian dark roast.\"\n\nI smiled and raised my hands into a fighting stance. \"I hope you're thirsty, because I'm gonna brew you up a Venti cup of *justice*.\"\n\nSomeone rang a bell, and a cheer went up from the assembled crowd, customers and employees alike. \"Let's get ready to RRRRUUUUMMMBLLLE!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Gravity on Earth shifts to match the gravity of our moon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a regular sunday morning in southern Ohio, a few clouds ni the sky and not a worry on my mind as I sat in a Mcdonalds, doing some freelance writing on my trusty solid state laptop. Suddenly there was a pop, and I felt myself get light. There was a loud *woosh* as our planet's atmosphere and water was ripped off of the planet. My last thought as the air I breathed escaped our gravity was, \n\n\"What in the actual fuck?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You object to the marriage but you keep silent. Why?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"my dearest friend, I kept silent because i thought a great deal about the consequences of such an act.\"I said.\n\"And what consequences might those be?\"My friend didn't know the reason why I would want to object, but that didn't stop him.\n\"Well, if I objected, I'd have to disclose my reasons for it. I'd be embarrassed, would have to run out of the church and miss the rest of that beautiful ceremony. It was beautiful, don't you agree?\"\n\"Yes, yes, delightful, indeed. But I don't even know what your reason is that causes you such an embarrassment.\"\n\"Oh, you don't think I will tell you, do you?\"\n\"All right, don't tell me. I'm going to get a little something to nibble on.\"\n\"It's not a good reason, Jack.\"I screamed to the moving figure. I shook my head at the thought of such a reason to deny two loving people the right to get married. I laughed softly, thinking how many lives I could have ruined by saying \"I Object\". You see, what i knew about the bride and groom was of little importance to me, but to them... \n\"So if it's not a good reason, you did well not to say anything. But what keeps you from telling me?\"Jack came bearing all sorts of salty treats and other kinds of entrees on top of a white napkin.\n\"I said it before: embarrassment.\"\n\"Oh please...\"\n\"All Right! You really want to know?\"\n\"YES!\"\n\"Know all that I know and am not willing to give up lightly?\"\n\"Yes, please! For the love of God, please!\"\nI sighed.\n\"Don't ask me how I know this, but just believe that I burden you now with the truth. The groom... prefers men.\"\nJack's face turned red, his eyes seemed to want to wander of their sockets.\n\"Wait there's more. The bride...let's just say we should call her groom number 2. I don't know if the groom groom knows, but i don't think that poses as a problem for him. What might come as a problem when found is the fact that the \"bride\"is having an affair with the groom groom's sister.\"\nHe sat down at a nearby chair I hadn't even seen. Placing his head in the middle of his knees and letting his arms rest on his legs, he stayed in that position for about 5 minutes. when he got up, he looked at me, mouth open.\n\"Glad you didn't say anything.\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"No, you don't understand. I'm having an affair with HIM.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are placed under arrest for a short story you wrote. Under interrogation, they suspect you are a leak in a very tightly held classified secret- based on the accuracy of your story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I really liked this, I wrote a story sometime back about a deep cover KGB spy in modern America still hunting his target.\r\rThe man sat across from the steel table, his hands resting on the stack of papers, while the second rested his head in the palms of his hands. I was quickly whisked away from my workplace in the hospital, and chained to my chair that was bolted to the ground. \r\rI sat glancing back and forth between the two, smile ran across my face in response to the question. \"What?\"I chuckled, \"This is a joke or something, Right?\"My smile faded as they sat emotionless, their faces seem to remain stuck in place. \"I dont know anything about this doctor you're talking about,\"the second man's eye brows raised up and remained their after my statement. \r\r\"You're a nurse correct?\"the first asked.\r\r\"Yes, but its ludicrous to assume I'm a KGB spy, I mean, I lived here my whole life!\"\r\r\"How do you explain your sudden appearance in our country? In 87? My mistake 86 you just came to be. No record of your birth, but you somehow managed a social security number, drivers license, and U.S. address all in the same week,\"the first suited man said shuffling through the papers. \r\r\"Look I told you, their was a mix up on the governments end, I never actually existed because I was never issued a social security number at birth. I made this all very clear at the time to the IRS and every other bureau when I applied for my first job. Check your records, I'm sure its all in a file cabinet somewhere an can clear this debacle right up.\"I replied. Feigning a smile again to no avail. My shackles clinking together.\r\r\"...and your parents, no records of them, I imagine you have a reason for that?\"\r\r\"They were immigrants from the old Azerbijan regime. They had Green Cards.\"\r\r\"Hmph,\"the second man now shifted, glanced at the first. \"Well, were gonna leave, but were gonna leave this paper here, if you want to come clean, write your confession and you might get off easy with life in prison.\"\r\rI sat flabbergasted, they shuffled out, leaving me alone. Well, I always assumed it would end one of two ways. This was the lesser expected outcome. My target probably whisked away and long gone, I removed my fake tooth with my tongue. And bit down on my cyanide capsule. \"Long live the Bear, down with the Eagle,\"said to the large mirror as my body slumped over. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The United States enters into a civil war based on NFL allegiance. Use the linked picture as a starting point. Go balls to the walls crazy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Southern Oregon. The redwoods are looming giants in the dense fog. \n\nThe flotsam and jetsam of a rising empire sit huddled in the trees, over looking a meadow. Fear seeps from every inch of these starving warriors. The fog is hiding something angry, evil, something hungry. \n\nIn the early days of the year our lord, 2014 AD, a new empire rose from the forested wastes of the pacific northwest. This empire came to greatness upon the slaying of a great and feared beast. \n\nThe beast was the reaper of the plains and the master of the mountains, known for its horrific orange eyes and blue skin. He was known as the Bronco and the day he was slain, a shrill screech could be heard from sea to shining sea.\n\nThe many tribes of the land knew that there was no other choice but war. The once timid and sickly Seahawk had become a fierce power but when any new empire rises, they must be tested. \n\nWith all corners of the land descending upon the rainy north, the Seahawk’s small yet loyal following is struggling to hold her glory even as nomads join in droves. \n\nFrom the fog across the valley comes a great roar, “WHOSE GOT IT BETTER THAN US?!”\n\nThe followers of the Seahawk look all around, not knowing what comes next. \n\n“NOBODY!” the fog screams, those screams turn into blood curdling yells as hundreds of red and gold clad men pour out of the dense fog. Baseball bats, chains, pipes raised in the air, thirsting for blood. \n\nThe leader of the Seahawk stands up, Blue and green hockey stick in his hands.\n\n“FOR THE 12!” A throwing knife lands in his throat, blood spews on the man kneeling below him. He falls to the ground. His fragile men sprint toward the wave of 49ers. The slaughter consumes the meadow, the small group of Seahawks are decimated with ease. \n\nThe boys from the bay push north, a deep hunger pushing them toward the den of the Seahawk. \n\nThis is only the beginning. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A fan's superstition actually helps his favorite team to win." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fifth-grader Larry Steinman was never good at sports: Dumpy and slow he possessed all the natural athleticism of a pillowcase full of lumpy porridge. However, just because he wasn't any good at it, didn't mean he didn't enjoy it.\n\nhis room was strewn with memorabilia of his favourite teams; basketball, baseball, football, NASCAR, soccer, even sports not so popular in the Sates such as rugby or Australian rules football, were all followed religiously by young Larry.\n\nJust about the happiest moment of his life was winning the grand prize in a Wheeties competition to be water-boy for a game for his beloved Dallas Cowboys.\n\nHis narcoleptic ham-beast of an uncle had volunteered to chaperone little Larry, to which his parents had replied *\"Yeah, whatever.\"* So, two nine-hour bus rides (plus a shorter, four-hour hop) later, and Larry Steinman was ready to do his part in the war on inadequate hydration.\n\nOf course, what no-one knew except Larry, was that he'd brought along his secret weapon; his lucky water-flask! An autographed Dallas Cowboys water-flask, from which Larry always drank during important Cowboys games. With this, victory was as good as theirs!\n\nBefore the game Larry emptied the contents of the flask into the team's water-butt. By so doing, the whole team was effectively drinking from the lucky vessel, sharing the luck around.\n\nBy half-time the Cowboys were tearing ahead! Larry had never seen the team so pumped! It was then that he noticed two things:\n\nOne; his uncle's narcolepsy medication didn't seem to be working. The huge, somnolent, lumpen, land-whale came down from the stands to see his nephew during half-time, heaved himself into a folding chair, and was snoring like a band-saw as he dropped off to sleep every couple of minutes.\n\nThe second thing Larry noticed was that his uncle had a Dallas Cowboys flask identical to his own. Except his uncle's flask wasn't autographed, of course.\n\nOh, wait... yes it was. What an odd coincidence.\n\nHang on.\n\nUh-oh.\n\nLarry examined his water-flask, and found, to his horror, that he was holding an un-autographed version of the drinking-vessel. He'd mixed up his uncle's flask with his own!\n\nFurthermore, he recalled his uncle's habit of dissolving the industrial-strength amphetamines he took for his narcolepsy and wide array of obesity-related disorders in his drinks.\n\nThe Cowboys absolutely demolished the competition, winning the game by miles, but, for some strange reason, when his friends would later ask Larry about being there at such an exciting game, he was always rather reluctant to talk about it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A visual story. No dialogue. Make me love (or even hate) a character." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man loosened his tie as he dropped the wriggling sack to the ground with a sickening thud. He ran his fingers through greasy, slick backed hair and bit the flaking skin off his bottom lip in nervous excitement. Grunting as he bent down, he reached into the bulging bag and lifted a puppy from its coarse burlap prison. The tiny golden Labrador kicked and yelped pathetically as the man brought it up to eye level. The dog whined and coughed miniature barks of protest. He let go of the pup and watched as it tumbled through the air towards the ground. But before it hit the dirt, he heaved his heavy boot as far back as he could before propelling it forward. A sickening thud followed by a loud screech as the leather connected with the soft fur of the mutt cracked through the park. The dog hurtled through the air; much higher and faster than the man had ever anticipated. It seemed to sail across the land for an eternity before finally landing into the far distance of the lake's centre. Plop.\n\nThe man reached back into the sack and pulled out a squirming chocolate brown beagle. One down, twelve more to go." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Killing is a norm, so if you don't like somebody, you can kill them w/o any repercussions. A rumor about you stalking underage girls has just surfaced around your town." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I know what you're thinking. The answer is yes. I do. I do watch them. I watch them everyday and I make sure they are okay. The world is cruel and dark, and I am the only one that can make sure they are safe. I have been so careful in the past, though, and I didn't think people would catch on. I'm just trying to help.\n\nI only want to help. The last time this happened I acted quickly. I shut it down. I was able to.. stop the last person who found out. She was crazy. She said that I was a pedophile and that I was perverted and that I was screwed up in the head. \n\nI showed her though. I'm still here, aren't I? If I'm so FUCKING SCREWED UP.. then why am I still alive and you aren't? Clearly, the look on their faces proved to me that offing you was what was right. They wanted me to keep them safe. They saw how I could keep.. the wrong people away from them. THEY LIKED IT. \n\nBeing their mother didn't give you the right to separate us. I can protect them better than you could. All I do is watch. I see the danger and I take care of it. Just like I did with you. And if your husband thinks he can kill me now, after what I did to you, your children can watch him die, just the same way. Then they will be with me. They will be mine.\n\nI will have them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "If someone is found guilty for a crime against you or your family, you are allowed to be left alone with them in a windowless room for one hour with only two rules: No weapons and no questions. You are that family member. Face the guilty party." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A man walks by, his suit well fit and his pace steady. I don't look up to his face but instead try to catch a glimpse of his watch. Quarter to four. My head turns as he passes me, his steps slowly trailing off as he follows the corridor into the direction I came from earlier. About 12 hours earlier. \n\nI turn back to gaze at the opposite, grey wall. Ingrain wallpaper. Grey. Just as every wall in this building. And every person. And every door.\n\nI can almost feel every second passing as an increase of weight on my bent back. So I lean forward, place my ellbows on my thighs, hide my face in my hands and push my thumbs into my eyes. 26 seconds. 26 seconds have passed. 14 minutes and 34 seconds until I will see him. Will be able to see his face at last.\n\nAfter my thoughts had vanished again I jumped as one of the grey man passing didn't actually pass but put his hand on my shoulder as to wake me up. I'm shaking and my legs nearly give way as I get up to follow this suited, grey man. I should be calm, not freaked out.\n\nI'm being escorted to the last door on the right of the long corridor. The opposite direction all the grey man are heading. They are all heading away from this room. As to flee from it. \n\nMore grey man at the door. I need to hand them my belt, purse, keys, bracelet and pencil. One of them makes me loose my tie. After patting me down again twice they open the door. \n\nMore falling than walking I enter a square room, barely lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Out of reach. Metalbars to keep it from being removed. I feel linoleum under my socks. Slippery. While I struggle to get rid of them I hear metal moving across the floor. Someone coughing. Just barely I catch myself from falling over, I throw the socks in the general direction of the door. A metal table is illuminated sharply in the middle of the room. A chair behind it. Bare metal. \n\nI don't recognize his face. I kind of hoped I would. His name didn't ring a bell as the they told me. Still none of us has said a word. All he did was back of from the table a bit. Pushing the chair he is tied to, on wrists and ancles. A bit too much space.\n\nI step behind him, hear him breath in sharply, push his chair a bit more towards the metal table. I don't want him to catch the edge as I slam him face first into the reflecting surface. Small drops litter across it and I drag my finger through some of them, forming lines and patterns as I walk around the table. \n\nI'm not allowed to question. Not allowed to use any weapons. But why would I?\n\nI continue the absurd effort of trying to dent the metal - but to no avail. During each walk around the table I can hear him mutter to himself, spitting blood and trying to catch a rattling breath through his broken teeth. Blood in his mouth and airways should be making this a painful experience.\n\nI need no phone, watch or grey man to tell me the time. I'll just do the best I can.\n\nPushing my fingers into his eyes he let's go of his first scream. After all they told me he's the one. The guilty one. \n\nNo need to question.\n\n--------------------------------\n\n€: Minor adjustments, spelling and duplicate words." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone can, at will, hear and record a soundtrack to their lives. Composers are those who seek out powerful experiences to create interesting music." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"HARRINGTON! What is this SHIT you sent me?\"I sat bolt upright, which would have been dramatic under a G or so but in freefall it just ripped my sleeping cocoon off the wall and sent myself- or in my perspective the room- spinning. \n I grabbed a handhold and swallowed hard as my inner ear tried to reverse my digestive tract. \"Kleiner, good morning. How'd you get past my protocols?\"His Augmented-Reality iCon burned red. He was back on Earth, somewhere. What I was talking to was a Fork of his conscious mind, a state-save of his brain that he'd tightbeamed to my ship. A tiny fraction of his soul, emailed to my hard drive. After our talk, it would be sent back to be re-integrated.\n\"Remember that contract you signed? Executive privilege, in case of family emergency. On account of your whole family is going to be in the POORHOUSE on BASIC if I don't get an EXPLANATION.\"His ARCon snorted fire and grew horns. \n \"You wanted things that couldn't happen on Earth.\"I pulled up the maker menu in my Interface and keyed in a bacon-flavored protein bar and a bulb of OJ. \"So I spent the week cloud-surfing on Venus, once through a kinetic storm. I think I saw a few shades of yellow never seen on Earth while doing it.\"The maker pinged me back, and I floated from my quarters across to the tiny 'mess hall'. \"Then I networked a fan that genesplices in one of the aero-sats, and I played with a few of the critters they're gen-gineering to help the terraforming effort. They got this floating jellyfish thing in there that hosts a whole fuckin' ecosystem of algae, does nothing but suck up CO2, shits carbon pellets, and farts pure oxygen. I went swimming in a tank of 'em after toking some of the prime weed they've got hydroponing.\"\n Kleiner's ARCon had cooled. He was trying really hard not to look impressed. \"Well... well, it still sounds like shit.\"\nI shook my head, bit into a crisp bacony wafer that I almost couldn't believe was made out of my recycled waste, and eye-keyed my Interface. My AR suite began playing with some of my best work from the trip. It was fucking transcendent. Even if I was standing under a full G, I'd still feel like I was floating. Kleiner's ARcon looked shocked. \"This isn't what you sent me, Harrington. What you sent sounded like an electrified squirrel with a sinus infection.\"He played a chunk of it, and I had to admit, it was a chunk of electrified squirrel shit. I grimaced and turned away, or tried to, since he remained in my field of view thanks to being instanced in my AR. Stupid INterFace. They can update it all they want, but- but wait.\n \"I've spent three months getting out here, Kleiner. How many times has your firmware updated since then? Because mine hasn't. Try scaling back a few versions, they might have changed compilers since then.\"\n His ARCon's face lit up. Literally. Turned into a lightbulb and everything. \"Harrington you're a GENIUS! Beam me back, quick! I was literally trying to figure out how to evict your whole family when I Forked. Even your estranged cousin on Mars. No hard feelings, right? You're gonna make the both of us RICH!\"His ARCon blinked out. \n I floated back to my sleep cocoon and strapped in, using my INterFace to tightbeam his Fork back to Earth. Just as I started to drift off, I realized that the sun was about to set on Venus through my viewport... so I switched my recorder on and watched the Venusian atmosphere light up my soul. Good enough for a hidden track on the new album, at least." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "All religious leaders come out and reveal that their religions were a facade to control populations." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One day, a very brave man was going through secret files in the Church of Science Suppression. He knew that they were lying, but he needed to find the proof. Because without physical evidence, how can you know anything? Checkmate, readers.\n\nAnyways, he finally said 'aha!' and he proudly waved around the delicate document to the world. \n\n*\"Actually, guys, I made this whole thing up.\"* A secret, lost verse from the New Testament! Suddenly, a priest, rabbi and shaman jumped down from the vents. \"You must not reveal this to the world! And besides, who knows if that translation is accurate?\"\n\n\"No, I have a math problem that can disprove god!\"And, as soon as they realized the STEM sciences (not something silly like psychology or sociology) had all of the answers to everything, they broke down and revealed their irrational emotions.\n\n\"It's true, we've been lying!\"cried the priest, \"I don't know if it's my hatred of science and freedom, my hobby of taking food away from starving children, or creating giant golden castles devoted to my fake god, but I've been lying. We all have been lying.\"\n\nAnd everyone, everywhere became euphoric and enlightened by their own intelligence. The end." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a horror story that ends with the line, \"Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every day. \n\nEvery day I wake up, look at the clock. 9:15 PM\n\nMy eyes are twitching and every muscle hurts. \n\nI hear the faint sound of NBC.\n\n*\"Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!\"*\n\nAfter a few minutes of struggling, I manage to stand up.\n\nThe dull, worn carpet is soft to my feet. The chill air suddenly becomes apparent. \n\nI left the window cracked. I always forget.\n\nI walk to my closet and pull out the same shirt and overalls I always wear.\n\nLiving on the coast, the country is a pretty silent place. All I hear is the ringing in my ears. \n\nI pick up my keys and head down the hall; there she is.\n\nMy wife died what seems like a millennium ago. All I have left is her picture hanging above the kitchen counter. \n\nI can't look at her anymore. \n\nI grab an apple and head to my truck.\n\nThe engine starts to stutter. My old white truck with a baby blue stripe had been with me since before I could remember.\n\nWorking the night shift at the old steel mill, I made a living. Not a good living, but a living.\n\nI traveled down the old country road I take every night. A couple rocks scattered intermittently around the dirt-paved, narrow lane. \n\nThe steel mill was a small setup. Good men work their lives away so that city folk can live in big, fancy buildings. \n\nI'm just security. Not like anyone's gonna steal a mill. \n\nI just sit here. In my box, monitoring the mill til sun-up. The old TV gives me view of most of the place.\n\nI turn the dial to 43 on cable. NBC's the only shit we get, but it's free, so what do I care?\n\nIt's now 9:25, and I hear a tap on the glass.\n\n\"Hello? Hey, buddy. You in there?\", says a voice in the darkness.\n\n\"Hey, hello?\"\n\nThe accent sounds northern. No body comes 'round this saw mill.\n\n*No body comes 'round this town.*\n\nI walk out and don't see anyone. \n\n\"Listen, I think he's gone.\", I hear from another voice.\n\n\"Hello?\", I answer in reluctance.\n\n\"How long?\", I hear one of multiple voices saying.\n\nI suddenly realize. What the fuck. Everything is going **black**.\n\nI start screaming. \n\n\"Hello??\", I shrieked. \n\n\"ANSWER ME\", I say as I pick up the pistol underneath the security desk.\n\n\"Let it go.\", they say.\n\n\"Where are you?\"I reply.\n\n\"Let it go.\"\"*Let it go*\"\n\nI take a shot in the darkness.\n\nI hear screaming. Everything starts flashing as my vision is dulled.\n\n\"HELP. Help me. Is anyone there? Please help!\"\n\nI'm sobbing.\n\nEverything stops. Everything is cold. I have never felt so much pain.\n\n\"Doctor, we've lost him.\", the nurse said with indifference.\n\n\"Time of death... 9:30 PM\", replied the doctor\n\n\"Turn off the television, it's time to go home.\"\n\n\"*Live from New York, it's Saturday Nigh--*\"" } ]