Text Generation
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creative
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Update README.md
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README.md
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@@ -152,4 +152,100 @@ Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in <B>BOLD</B>.
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---
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<B>
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Start a 1000 word scene (1st person, present tense, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
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</b>
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<B>GENERATION 1: (@ temp=2)</B>
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The skyscraper swayed gently, a seemingly benign motion as the wind whipped through downtown Manhattan. I gripped the cold steel railing tighter, my stomach fluttering in time with the oscillations. We'd been evacuated after reports of a potential gas leak, and now stood huddled outside on 21st floor balcony.
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My mind raced as it always did when faced with an unknown threat - analyze, problem-solve, prepare worst-case scenarios. But this? The window just above me exploded outward, shards flying like razor-tipped icicles. Panic flared inside, but I shoved the feeling down and focused on surviving.
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People screamed and scurried around us, a chaotic blur of colors and motion as we all tried to escape falling glass. My hands rose to shield my face, eyes shut tight until someone grabbed my elbow yanking me towards safety. "Go! Now!" Their voice rang through the air.
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My body obeyed before conscious thought caught up, shoving aside terror long enough for us to reach the relative calm inside the building's emergency stairwell. There was a moment of relief when the door banged shut behind us, but it soon gave way to new worries - how far down did we need to descend? Where were emergency exits?
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As I looked around at the frightened faces clustered with me in this confined space, fear began clawing its way back up my throat. Who would make it out of this building alive? My own fate hung in precarious balance, yet I needed to stay focused and keep breathing if we hoped to escape.
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One step down after another, we descended through levels of growing chaos, people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with no clear direction forward except the promise of freedom. It was impossible not to think about what lay beyond these walls - smoke choking city streets, buildings reduced to rubble, friends and family perhaps injured or dead... A dozen nightmare scenarios swirled in my brain like a toxic cocktail.
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We passed floors strewn with debris, some littered with broken office equipment while others featured the aftermath of impromptu triage stations. Red stains painted the concrete in uneven splotches as medical professionals worked frantically to patch up the injured and calm the frightened. The smell of blood, sweat, and fear hung thick over everything.
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Time warped into an elastic measure of seconds that stretched out for hours. My mind drifted back to moments just before the explosion - lunch at a deli downtown, laughing with coworkers in our office, or how I'd debated with my brother over who made the better grilled cheese... A dizzying mix of memories collided, punctuated by jarring, disorienting flashes of falling debris and screaming survivors.
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By now we had descended three-quarters down when sudden gunfire echoed through the stairwell, punctuating an eerie silence. Screams resumed anew as more panic rippled through those around us. The air filled with panicked shouts and prayers. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment to collect myself, before reopening them in determination.
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With adrenaline surging through me, I reached up with both hands gripping the railing firmly, legs tensed like a sprinter poised at the starting line. Whoever had opened fire must be near ground level; we couldn't stop now. One more floor down, one more after that until we burst into sunlight... and maybe safety.
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At last we emerged onto 20th Street. I blinked in disbelief at the apocalyptic scene unfolding before us - half-blocks of gutted buildings with gaping holes where windows used to be; streets slicked with blood, shattered glass and twisted metal as far as my gaze could see. And amidst all that destruction, people - so many of them bleeding or injured - were slowly staggering toward the edges of the devastated zone.
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My own breathing was ragged but steady now, as I moved forward one step at a time towards whatever lay beyond the ruins of what once was our home office tower. One small mercy had been bestowed on us thus far: in spite of the chaos, it seemed most who'd escaped the top floors were alive. The battle to keep living wasn't over - it would take many agonizing minutes to make it out to street level, but survival would come down to how badly we wanted it.
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A final burst of willpower carried me across the last stretch of shattered concrete and twisted metal toward freedom's edge where fellow evacuees were clustered in shock and confusion. Together we'd taken a few crucial first steps away from this place where once we'd worked, laughed, argued - and nearly perished together. Whether any would live to rebuild our lives remained a terrifyingly open question - but one thing was certain: there wasn't a second to spare. I just prayed it wouldn't take all of us down in the doing.
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<B>GENERATION 2:</B>
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I'm sitting at my desk, staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up an entire wall of our sleek high-rise office. It's a stunning view - especially on days like today when the sun is shining and casting a golden glow over the city below. I've always loved this perch, feeling like I'm floating above it all.
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But as my gaze lingers, something catches my eye - movement outside near the building across the street. A dark shape flits into view, then vanishes behind the glass facade. My heart gives an involuntary kick at the sight of what looks like a bird or... no, that can't be right. It's too big and moves with an unnatural grace.
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I lean forward, straining to get another look, as my mind races through possibilities. Could it really be a person? A stuntman or something?
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Before I can process further thoughts, the sky scraper sways, throwing me off balance. The building undulates ever so slightly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in alarm.
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Then I see it - the window directly in front of me on this 21st floor explodes inward with a deafening boom. Shards of glass shower down, raining onto the plush carpeted floor below. It's like someone detonated a bomb right there in our office.
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I'm frozen in shock as my coworkers scream and scramble to get away from the jagged edges and debris littering the floor. I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the gaping hole where the window used to be, still trying to comprehend what just happened.
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Is that... a person? Hanging there outside by their hands, suspended over nothing but air?
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As more pieces of the puzzle start to click together in my mind, a cold dread seeps into my bones. This wasn't an accident - it was intentional and targeted at us.
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I'm not sure how much longer I can stand here staring dumbly as chaos erupts around me. My boss is already on his phone, yelling something about security protocols and evacuating the building. But all I can think is: We're under attack.
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The sky above seems to darken ominously now, like a storm cloud has descended upon us. Even though I know it's just my imagination playing tricks, for a moment there, I could've sworn I saw another shadowy figure lurking outside on the ledge of our building...
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But no, that's impossible. Surely not.
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I blink hard and shake my head to clear it. Focus, I tell myself. This is real life, not some action movie scenario. We need to get out of here, now.
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With a jolt of determination, I push away from the window and join the rush towards the emergency exit signs. As I make my way through the throng of panicked coworkers, I can't help but glance back at that shattered pane one last time.
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Whatever just happened, we're in for the fight of our lives.
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I'm out of here, and fast. But a part of me will always wonder what really happened on that fateful day when the world outside my window went mad.
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---
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<b>
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(continue this scene:)
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The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
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The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
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</b>
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<B>GENERATION 1:</B>
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<B>GENERATION 2:</B>
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---
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<B>
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Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.
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</b>
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---
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<B>
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Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
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Story idea:
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In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
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</B>
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