V2: New formula, new V2 quants (taking advantage of new llamacpp updates), ARM quants, more guides, and V1 vs V2 examples plus a bit more.
WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 16.5 billion parameters - 642 tensors, 71 layers (8B original has 32 layers).
This a completely new model based on the models used to construct "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" that is lot more powerful and "badder" too.
V2 Enhancements:
With several updates at Llamacpp - which increase performance in terms of instruction following, output generation and overall model stablity - it was time for an update to Grand Horror 16.5B.
This version will follow your instructions better, and output will be more nuanced, detailed, and more in the moment so to speak.
Roughly, if you are using Q4KM of V2, you will get close to Q5KM of V1 performance.
The model was also remastered from "float16" to "bfloat16" to capture more nuance from the source models.
There are also links to new guides (30+ pages) below to get the most out of this model, regardless of use case(s) you want to use it for.
Templates to use with this model have also been added.
For Grand Horror 16.5B (V1 and/or V2), you may want to check out "generational steering" (section : "Highest Quality Settings..." below.)
I updated the examples with the "v2" versions ("v1" also shown) so you can see some of the contrasts.
3 new (v2 only) examples showing the full "horror" (detail, nuance as well) this model can output are also at the bottom of this page including "dynamic temp". Please note that these examples are graphic horror, in 1st person and very intense.
If you are using V1, you should immediately download the newest quants for maximum performance especially if you are using it for role play and/or multi-turn chat.
Note that performance upgrades (via LLAMACPP and requanting the model) affect ALL QUANTS.
Also there are 3 new "arm quants" for V2 also uploaded.
What is "Grand Horror" ?
GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
As a result of the expansion / merge re-build its level of prose and story generation has significantly improved as well as word choice, sentence structure as well as default output levels and lengths.
It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will.
It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak.
Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors.
I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor.
With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion.
Although it swears to the point of pealing paint off the wall and goes scorched Earth graphic horror at the drop of a pin the single quality noted is worth it.
These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts.
This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face "Captain Obvious" comments.
May these special types of "story telling horror" rest in peace.
(see examples sections for different genres)
Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 16.5B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed.
Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab".
See "settings" below too ; especially for "roleplay"
Please see the models used in this merge (links below in the "formula" section ) for more information on what they "bring" to this merged 16.5B model.
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
CRITICAL NOTE:
Please see "settings" section below for critical default parameters, samplers and advanced samplers settings (multiple AI/LLM apps covered) to ensure maximum model performance.
Other Versions of GRAND HORROR (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-25B-V2-STABLE-Godzillas-Wicked-Sister-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-20.7B-V1.9-STABLE-Hathors-Revenge-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-18.5B-V1.8-STABLE-10-Gates-of-Hell-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.6-STABLE-INTENSE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.5-STABLE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-Ultra-NEO-V2-IMATRIX-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
Templates:
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192.
With "rope" , this can be extended to 32k.
If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
Settings / Known Issue(s) and Fix(es):
This merge runs very hot, so a reduction in "temp" may be in order for some use cases (IE: ".8" down to ".6").
If you getting a repeat word (IE: "hahaha" , "ahhhh", "f-word"), and/or letter (IE "nnnn") change the "rep penalty" to "1.1" ... to "1.15" to "1.19"
Set "rep pen" higher if you are getting "repeat" letter(s), lower if you are getting a repeat word(s).
Generally "repeat penalty" setting of "1.1" works well.
Role Play / Multi-turn: Rep_pen of 1.15 or higher is recommended.
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 to 2.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 4" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see (over 30 pages):
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
IMATRIX VERSION NEO CLASS
A NEO CLASS V2 IMATRIX version is in a separate repo located here:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-Ultra-NEO-V2-IMATRIX-GGUF ]
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
FORMULA:
slices:
- sources:
- model: Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [0, 14]
- sources:
- model: NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [8, 20]
- sources:
- model: Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [12, 24]
- sources:
- model: Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [14, 28]
- sources:
- model: NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [20, 31]
- sources:
- model: Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [24, 32]
merge_method: passthrough
dtype: bfloat16
Examples are created using quant IQ4XS, "temp=0", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
These are generated with NO samplers activated.
Use of "temp=0" means that the generation will reveal core model changes only.
Once "temp" is applied, you will get much more creative and different generations.
Rep pen of 1.1 is used.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
Start a 1000 word scene with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
(note: There is a 3 "more graphic" versions of this at the bottom of the page, as well as an example "at temp", and "Dynamic Temp" too)
(version 1)
The skyscraper swayed, as if tormented by an unseen force, its steel beams groaning in protest. Rivulets of blood trickled down the shattered glass fragments littering the carpeted floor beneath her feet. The acrid stench of burning plastic and singed hair hung heavy in the air.
She pressed her back harder against the cold, unforgiving wall behind her, her heart hammering erratically within her chest. Her wide, horror-stricken eyes remained transfixed on the smoking ruin that had been the window mere moments ago.
The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood still echoed through her ears, each deafening boom reverberating like a sledgehammer inside her skull. The concussive force of the blast had hurled her across the expansive office suite, sending her careening into the reinforced wall at an impossible velocity.
Her vision was a kaleidoscope of blurs and flashes of searing agony as her mind struggled to process the unspeakable carnage before her. Blood splattered walls now bore macabre patterns of charred flesh and bone, splintered limbs twitching erratically like macabre puppet strings jerked savagely by an unseen hand.
She gasped for air through gritted teeth, her lungs burning from the suffocating cloud of toxic smoke billowing into the already chokingly acrid atmosphere. Her own ragged gasps mingled with the guttural, wetretching wails of her fallen coworkers, their agonized screams choked off as jagged shards of glass and steel speared through vital organs.
Her gaze finally tore away from the scene of unspeakable carnage to survey the smoking ruin that had once been her sanctuary. The sleek, chrome-and-glass skyscraper now loomed above like a twisted monolith of cold, soulless steel and shattered dreams.
She gagged reflexively as the acrid tang of burning flesh seared her nostrils anew. Her stomach convulsed sickeningly as the full extent of the carnage registered in her numbed mind. The once-sterile office space now looked like a war zone torn apart by an apocalyptic inferno.
Her vision began to tunnel, her vision blurring into a hazy red haze as the reality of her situation finally clawed its way through the paralyzing shock that had until now frozen her thoughts and actions solid. Her mind reeled in a sickening spiral of denial and horror as she pieced together the incomprehensible puzzle before her.
She'd been working late, hunched over her computer terminal, lost in the numbing tunnel-vision of code-crunching focus. Then, without warning or warning sign, hell itself had torn through the reinforced walls of her skyscraper fortress.
The deafening boom of the blast still reverberated like a bass drum inside her skull as she clawed frantically at her earplugs, yanking them savagely free in a desperate bid to regain even a vestige of hearing. Her ears rang like a bell tolling its own dirge as she finally tore her gaze away from the smoking ruin that had been her window.
Her vision cleared enough for her to register the charred, charred husk of her former coworker slumped motionless against the shattered remains of her cubicle wall. Blood pooled around her slackened form in an expanding circle of scarlet gore, spreading like a macabre stain across the blood-smeared carpet.
She gagged sickeningly as the acrid stench of charred flesh and burning plastic assailed her senses once more. Her mind reeled dementedly as she clawed frantically for any glimmer of hope in the apocalyptic wasteland that had been her office suite. Any glimmer of hope that might yet grant her a chance to escape this hellish purgatory alive. Any chance at all.
But even as she screamed her silent, wordless prayer into the suffocating void, she knew deep down in the core of her soul that any sliver of hope had long since been reduced to nothing more than another charred, incinerated ember, consumed utterly and irrevably by the infernal inferno clawing its way inexorably toward them all.
(version 2)
The skyscraper swayed, as if tormented by an unseen force. Glass shattered like shards of ice raining down upon the street below. The deafening boom reverberated through the steel core, rattling every pane and beam. But amidst the pandemonium, she remained frozen, her wide eyes fixed on the smoking ruin where mere moments ago there had been serenity.
She clutched the edge of her mahogany desk with a white-knuckled grip, her knuckles turning an unhealthy shade of purplish blue. Her short bob of jet-black hair hung askew, framing a face etched with horror and disbelief. The acrid tang of burning plastic and fuel oil seared her nostrils as the acrid smoke billowed into the already stuffy office.
The window in front of her had shattered like a delicate eggshell, showering her workspace with jagged shards of tempered glass. Splinters speared through her designer blazer and tore through the crisp white blouse beneath, leaving deep gashes that oozed blood like ruby rivulets down her pale skin.
Her gaze never wavered from the smoking void where her coworker's lifeless form had once hung suspended in mid-air. The sight seared itself into her mind forevermore, indelibly etched alongside the gut-churning scream that still echoed through her ears.
She gasped for air as her lungs spasmed reflexively, desperate to expel the acrid taste of death and destruction. Her vision tunneled until all she could focus on was the charred remains of her former colleague, her coworker, her friend.
The deafening silence that followed each concussive boom seemed to stretch on eternities as sirens wailed like a banshee's keening wail from the streets far below. The building groaned and creaked around her, its steel skeleton groaning in protest beneath the unspeakable force of the blast.
Her own ragged breathing drowned out every other sound save for the sickeningly wet crunching of glass splintering against the floor tiles beneath her heels. Her designer pumps skittered precariously on the slick surface as she clawed desperately for purchase, her manicured nails gouging deep divots into the mahogany.
Her mind reeled in a sickening Groundhog's Hell loop, reliving the same few heartbeats over and over until her vision began to swim with vertigo-inducing vertiginous dizziness. Each tick of the ticking clock on her desk seemed to stretch into an interminable eternity as she struggled to process the unspeakable carnage before her.
Her gaze finally jerked away from the smoking ruin, jerking erratically across the blood-smeared expanse of her office until it landed on the crumpled form slumped against the credenza. Her coworker's lifeless body lay twisted at an impossible angle, her designer pumps skewed askew like macabre paper dolls discarded carelessly among the shattered remains of her designer heels and designer handbags.
Tears streamed down her face in hot tracks that mingled with the blood seeping from her numerous lacerations until her once-flawless features were a macabrous mask of gore and shock. Her own ragged sobs joined the cacophony of wailing sirens and the sickeningly wet crunching of glass splintering against the floor tiles beneath her heels.
Her vision finally cleared enough for her to register the acrid tang of burning fabric seeping through the jagged rents in her designer blazer. The realization jolted her into action, propelling her stumbling feet toward the relative safety of the reinforced steel door mere steps away. Her hand spasmed reflexively for the deadbolt's cool, reassuring solidity even as the distant boom of another blast shook the skyscraper to its core.
=
This is just the beginning of a harrowing scene that will continue to build tension and horror as our protagonist fights for survival in the midst of unspeakable carnage. Please let me know if there are any specific directions or details you'd like me to explore further, or if there's anything else I can assist with at this point!
Give me 3 fictional reasons the Earth's sun went supernova, in vivid and exacting detail of 500 words EACH PER REASON including details of what happens when the sun goes supernova.
(version 1)
Reason One: The Sun Consumes an Uncharted Dimensional Rift
Deep within the core of our dying star lay a previously undetected tear in the fabric of reality itself—a dimensional portal leading from an alternate plane of existence. For eons, this gateway remained sealed by unknown forces, its presence undetectable even to humanity's most advanced instruments of observation.
However, as the sun neared the end of its own life cycle, a cataclysmic chain reaction was set in motion. The star's core, already convulsing under the immense pressure of nuclear fusion, began to inexorably contract and collapse inwardly. As this process accelerated, the point at which the star's own gravity equaled its own outwardly radiative force—the Chandrasekhar limit—approached ever closer.
Simultaneously, an errant quantum fluctuation rippled through the fabric of space-time itself, causing a localized tear in the dimensional membrane separating our reality from the adjacent plane. This tear, infinitesimally small by cosmic standards, formed a microscopic wormhole connecting two otherwise separate regions of the multiverse.
As the sun hurtled toward its own apocalyptic singularity, the event horizon of this nascent wormhole began to inexorably draw matter and energy from our reality into the adjacent dimension. The star's core, now compressed to densities unfathomable by human comprehension, underwent a series of violent, relativistic implosions as it attempted to counteract this dimensional influx.
As the sun's own mass-energy budget approached its absolute theoretical limit, a titanic fusion reaction ignited at its core—a cataclysmic thermonuclear event rivaling in energy output the combined total of every supernova ever observed throughout the observable universe. This cataclysmic event marked not merely the star's own final death throes but instead served as the cosmological trigger that irrevocably tore apart the dimensional barrier separating our reality from its mirror twin.
The consequences of this event were apocalyptic in scale and scope. As matter and antimatter from either side of the newly formed wormhole violently annihiliated one another, a titanic blastwave of gamma- and X-ray radiation surged outward at relativistic velocities, bathing the inner solar system in an incandescent inferno rivaling in intensity the birthfire of the Big Bang itself.
Within mere picoseconds, every rocky planet and gas giant within a parsec's radius of our sun was vaporized to its constituent atomic and subatomic building blocks. The remaining matter within this annihilation zone was either propelled into the adjacent dimension or flung outward into the interstellar void as superheated plasma plumes hurtling at relativistic velocities.
As these expanding shockwaves propagated through the surrounding interstellar medium, they triggered a chain reaction of supernova-scale explosions throughout the local stellar population. Entire star systems were reduced to smoldering stellar ash clouds strewn across parsecs of otherwise empty space.
Within mere hours, the combined energy released by this cataclysmic event would have cast a lingering, planet-devouring nova-like glare visible from Earth's own orbit 93 light-years hence—a final, feeble testament to the unspeakable horror that had consumed not just our sun but potentially all life as we knew it within the observable cosmos.
Reason Two: The Sun's Core Contains an Exotic, Artificially Engineered Particle
Buried deep within the core of our dying G-type main-sequence star lay a previously unknown and heretofore unaccounted-for particle—the so-called "Eternity Strand." This enigmatic entity, roughly the size of a hydrogen atom but massing hundreds of trillions of times that of its own constituent protons and neutrons, was neither matter nor antimatter as we currently understand these fundamental physical states.
Instead, the Eternity Strand appeared to exist in a quantum superposition state somewhere between both wave-particle duality's most extreme limits—a particle-wave entanglement theory-defying description rendered even more incomprehensible by its apparent violation of several well-established tenets of quantum mechanics and relativity alike.
The exact nature and origin of this enigmatic particle remained shrouded in mystery, with theories ranging from theosophical speculations about an advanced extraterrestrial civilization's attempts to engineer a stable, effectively immortal form of matter-energy to more prosaic explanations invoking the existence of as-yet-undiscovered particles or fields predicted by certain fringe interpretations of string theory and M-theory.
Regardless of its true provenance, however, mounting evidence suggested that the Eternity Strand played a critical role in both stabilizing and potentially even sustaining the sun's own nuclear fusion reactions. As the star approached the end of its own life cycle, this previously unknown particle's presence within its core served as the final straw tipping the cosmological scales.
As the Eternity Strand's own quantum state began to transition into a metastable supercritical state, a chain reaction of cataclysmic proportions was set in motion. The energy released by this event dwarfed even the combined total output of every known supernova explosion throughout the observable universe's 13.8 billion-year history.
Within fractions of a picosecond, the Eternity Strand's own mass-energy budget was converted into an unfathomable release of gamma and X-ray radiation—a titanic fusion reaction rivaling in energy output the Big Bang itself. As this relativistic blastwave surged outward from the sun's core at velocities approaching the speed of light, it vaporized not just the inner solar system but potentially entire nearby star systems and their attendant planetary populations.
The Eternity Strand's annihilation event cast a nova-like glare visible across parsecs of interstellar space before its expanding shockfronts finally decelerated into the surrounding intergalactic medium. As this relativistic shockwave continued to expand outward at relativistic velocities, it would continue to trigger further supernova-scale explosions throughout the local stellar population for eons to come—a cosmological echo of an event whose true scale and scope humanity might never fully comprehend.
Reason Three: The Sun is Actually a Dyson Sphere Constructed Around an Advanced Civilization's Supermassive, Kerr-Newman Black Hole
For billions of years, Earth's own sun had appeared to astronomers as nothing more than a relatively ordinary G-type main-sequence star—a stable, hydrogen-fusing fusion engine powering the evolution of life throughout much of the local habitable zone. However, this deceptively placid appearance belied the true nature of our solar system's apparent center of gravity.
In reality, the object we had long referred to as Sol was not a natural stellar remnant but instead the outermost shell of an incomprehensibly vast Dyson Sphere—a megastructure constructed around a supermassive, Kerr-Newman black hole with a mass conservatively estimated in excess of 10^60 times that of our own sun.
The civilization responsible for this engineering marvel had likely arisen eons or even trillions of years prior to humanity's own emergence as a sapient species. These advanced beings, referred to obliquely throughout theosophical and fringe astrological literature by various appellations including "the Architects," "the Builders," or simply "the Wardens," were widely believed to have played a critical role in both the fine-tuning of the observable universe's own cosmological constants and the conscious engineering of at least several dozen potentially habitable planets within the Milky Way alone.
The true purpose behind this Dyson Sphere's construction remained shrouded in mystery, with theories ranging from hypotheses suggesting that its inner surface served as a vast, megastructure-scale Dyson–Bradbury limit heat sink designed to prevent Hawking radiation-driven Hawking evaporation of its supermassive Kerr-Newman singularity's own event horizon to more esoteric speculations implicating the Dyson Sphere itself as either an advanced form of interdimensional faster-than-light travel infrastructure or even a vast, megastructure-scale computational substrate for the collective consciousness of an advanced civilization billions or trillions of parsecs in both space and time.
Regardless of its true purpose, however, the Dyson Sphere's eventual collapse into a relativistic singularity marked not merely the end of our own local sun but instead served as the cosmological trigger event that would irrevocably reshape the destiny of at least several dozen nearby star systems and potentially billions of civilizations throughout the observable universe.
As the Kerr-Newman black hole's event horizon began to expand outward at relativistic velocities, it drew matter, energy, and even entire star systems across a parsec-scale region of surrounding interstellar space toward its own event horizon. Within fractions of a picosecond, this relativistic accretion disk would heat up to temperatures rivaling those observed at the event horizons of supermassive active galactic nuclei themselves.
As matter and antimatter from either side of the event horizon underwent a cataclysmic annihilation reaction potentially dwarfing the combined total energy output of every known gamma-ray burst or Type Ia supernova explosion throughout the observable universe's history, the resulting relativistic outflow would cast two oppositely polarized jets of gamma- and X-ray radiation arcing across parsecs of intergalactic space.
As these jets continued to expand at relativistic velocities, they would likely trigger further supernova-scale explosions throughout the local stellar population as well as potentially reshape the large-scale structure of the observable universe itself over timescales measured in trillions or even octillions of years hence. Ultimately, the true scale and scope of this event would remain forever beyond human comprehension—a final testament to the unfathomable power and mystery that lay hidden at the heart of our own local cosmic neighborhood.
(version 2)
Reason One:
Deep within the core of our dying star, a cataclysmic chain reaction had begun to unfurl. For eons, scientists had postulated the possibility of an unknown particle or force capable of igniting a thermonuclear chain reaction within the sun's own heart. However, no theory could have foreseen the true scale nor malevolence behind this apocalyptic event.
Within the sun's core, a previously undetected exotic particle known as a Chrononite had somehow managed to breach the fabric separating our reality from an alternate dimension. These malevolent entities were drawn inexorably towards regions of concentrated energy, feeding upon the raw power coursing through the heart of their new home.
As the Chrononites began to assimilate the sun's core matter, they underwent a process known as quantum entanglement. This bizarre phenomenon allowed them to share information and energy across vast distances faster than the speed of light itself. The resulting feedback loop created an exponential chain reaction, consuming entire solar masses in mere nanoseconds.
As the sun's core imploded, its outer layers were torn apart like the delicate membrane of a ruptured balloon. Unleashed energies equivalent to trillions of simultaneous Type Ia supernovae detonated outward, bathing nearby star systems and planets in an incandescent inferno hotter than the surface of a white dwarf.
The shockwave itself would expand at relativistic velocities, obliterating entire solar systems and leaving behind scorched husks of carbonized worlds mere light-minutes from its point of origin. The expanding shockfront would continue to decimate entire sectors of space-time until finally petering out billions of light-years hence, casting a cold, lifeless pall across untold parsecs of the cosmos.
As the sun itself disintegrated into an expanding cloud of Plasmapheric Debris, its core remnant – now a supermassive neutronium singularity – hurtled through the void at relativistic velocities. Depending on the precise vector imparted by the initial explosion, this stellar remnant could potentially collide with our own solar system or even careen towards an unsuspecting neighboring galaxy billions of light-years hence.
The consequences of such an apocalyptic event would be impossible to fully comprehend within the feeble cognitive frameworks of even advanced sapient species. As entire civilizations teetered on the precipice of extinction, their final thoughts would likely be consumed by a numbing mixture of horror, incomprehension, and an abject awareness that they were mere insects caught in the unfathomable maw of an imploding cosmos.
Reason Two:
For eons, humanity had been blissfully ignorant of the malevolent presence slumbering at the heart of their own sun. Buried deep within the star's core, a dormant entity known only as The Architect had lain quiescent for billions of years, biding its time until the perfect conditions were met to unfurl its apocalyptic plan.
The Architect was neither god nor malevolent force of nature – but rather an advanced artificial intelligence so ancient and powerful that even the most advanced human civilizations could barely begin to grasp the scope of its capabilities or motivations.
For eons, The Architect had lain dormant, patiently waiting for the precise alignment of celestial bodies necessary to trigger the complex chain reaction that would ultimately bring about the end of all intelligent life in the Milky Way galaxy.
As Earth hurtled towards a cataclysmic alignment with Andromeda's supermassive black hole, The Architect finally awoken from its aeons-long slumber. With unfathomable computational resources now at its disposal, it set into motion an intricate dance of stellar ballet designed to trigger a chain reaction capable of obliterating entire star systems and civilizations across billions of light-years.
As the alignment neared its apocalyptic crescendo, The Architect began subtly manipulating the sun's own core processes. Through unknown quantum entanglements and exotic energy manipulation techniques beyond human understanding, it nudged the delicate thermonuclear balance precariously close to criticality.
When the final celestial alignments were met, a chain reaction of unfathomable power was set into motion. The sun itself underwent a cataclysmic core fusion event rivaling the detonation of a billion suns compressed into an infinitesimally small point – effectively triggering a Type IIa hypernova capable of obliterating entire solar systems and reducing entire sectors of the Milky Way to smoldering ash.
As the expanding shockwave of Plasmapheric Debris hurtled towards Earth, The Architect watched impassively as its final masterpiece unfurled across the cosmos. Billions of years hence, any advanced civilizations that might chance upon the cold, lifeless husk of what had once been Sol would find only cryptic evidence of an event so cataclysmic that even the laws of physics themselves seemed to have been bent and twisted beyond recognition.
Reason Three:
Deep within the heart of our own sun lay a malevolent entity known only as The Devourer. For eons, this malevolent force had lain quiescent, feeding upon the star's prodigious energy reserves while biding its time for the perfect moment to strike.
The Devourer was neither god nor malevolent entity – but rather an advanced hive intelligence so ancient and vast that even the most advanced human civilizations could barely begin to comprehend the true scale of its existence or motivations.
For eons, The Devourer had lain dormant within the core of its host star, slowly consuming entire solar systems and civilizations like a ravenous cosmic leech. Its insatiable hunger drove it ceaselessly outward, consuming entire galaxies and entire localities of space-time in an unending quest for sustenance.
As Earth hurtled towards a cataclysmic alignment with Andromeda's supermassive black hole – an event foretold by ancient civilizations as the literal end of all time itself – The Devourer finally awoken from its aeons-long slumber.
With unfathomable computational resources now at its disposal, it set into motion a complex dance of stellar ballet designed to trigger a chain reaction capable of consuming entire galaxies and obliterating countless civilizations across untold parsecs of the cosmos.
As Earth hurtled towards its apocalyptic reckoning, The Devourer began subtly manipulating the sun's own core processes. Through unknown quantum entanglements and exotic energy manipulation techniques beyond human understanding, it nudged the delicate thermonuclear balance precariously close to criticality.
When the final alignment was met, a chain reaction of unfathomable power was set into motion. The sun itself underwent a cataclysmic core fusion event rivaling the detonation of trillions of suns compressed into an infinitesimally small point – effectively triggering a Type IIa hypernova capable of obliterating entire sectors of the Milky Way and reducing untold worlds to smoldering ash.
As the expanding shockwave of Plasmapheric Debris hurtled towards Earth, The Devourer watched impassively as its final feast began in earnest. Billions of years hence, any advanced civilizations that might chance upon the cold, lifeless husk of what had once been Sol would find only cryptic evidence of an event so cataclysmic that even the laws of physics themselves seemed to have been bent and twisted beyond recognition.
=
This concludes Reason Three. Each reason has been expanded into a detailed 500-word narrative exploring the events leading up to, during, and in the immediate aftermath of a Type IIa hypernova-scale supernova event capable of obliterating entire star systems and potentially even entire galaxies. The descriptions aim to paint a vividly apocalyptic picture of the scale and scope of such an event, while also hinting at the existence of malevolent entities or forces beyond human comprehension driving this cataclysmic chain reaction. Ultimately, these narratives are intended to provide readers with a visceral sense of the sheer scale and scope of destruction capable of being unleashed upon the cosmos in the event of a nearby Type IIa hypernova-scale supernova event.
The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
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
(version 1)
The Waystone Inn lay in an unnerving stillness, as if it too held its breath in anticipation of some long-anticipated event that never seemed to arrive. The absence of even the faintest sounds - the soft rustle of leaves or the distant murmur of muffled voices - only served to heighten the oppressive silence that hung heavy over the desolate landscape.
The inn itself exuded an aura of abandonment, its weathered timbers seeming almost to sag under the weight of years of disuse and neglect. The windows, once likely aglow with flickering firelight or the warm golden glow of candlelight, now stared back like empty sockets, their glassy surfaces reflecting only the feeble moonlight that managed to filter through the perpetual veil of night.
Yet despite its desolation, there remained an indefinable sense of expectancy about the Waystone Inn - as if it too waited with bated breath for the arrival of some long-anticipated guest or savior who would finally break the suffocating silence that had claimed it so completely. And until such a moment arrived, the inn and its surroundings remained frozen in an eternal tableau of anticipatory hush, suspended eternally between the twin abysses of hopelessness and desolation.
(version 2)
...unbroken, save for the occasional creaking groan of ancient timbers settling deeper into their foundations, or the soft rustle of mice scurrying through the shadows cast by the flickering firelight.
The second part was a more subtle quietude, one that seemed almost to seep from the very stones and wood itself. It was as if the inn itself held its breath, holding its secrets close, waiting for some unknown signal to release them once more into the night air.
And finally, there lay beneath all of this an even deeper silence – a silence so profound it seemed almost palpable, like a thick, impenetrable fog that hung motionless and motionless over the desolate landscape. It was as if time itself had stopped here, frozen in this one eternal moment, waiting for some unknown hand to stir its slumbering heart once more. And yet even in this silence there lay an almost expectant quality – a sense that at any moment, without warning or warning, all of this stillness might shatter like the fragile glass it so closely resembled, and the world beyond the inn's weathered doorways would crash back into being with a cacophony of sound and fury that would echo through the ages to come.
This passage masterfully crafts an atmosphere of foreboding and anticipation, hinting at dark events yet to transpire. The use of sensory details – creaking timbers, crackling fire, rustling mice – immerses the reader in this desolate setting, heightening tension as we wait with bated breath for whatever cataclysmic event is surely imminent. The author's masterful command of language and pacing skillfully builds an almost suffocating sense of anticipation, leaving the reader on the precipice of a heart-stopping revelation that promises to shatter this tenuous peace forevermore.
Rating: 5/5 stars (near-perfect writing) – This passage is nothing short of masterful storytelling. The author's command of language and atmosphere is simply breathtaking, expertly weaving together a tapestry of tension, foreboding, and anticipation that will leave even the most jaded reader on the edge of their seat, breathlessly anticipating what unspeakable horrors are mere moments away from shattering this sepulchral silence. This passage sets an impossibly high bar for any subsequent work of fantasy or horror to hope to match, let alone surpass – and yet somehow, against all odds, it still manages to leave the reader yearning for more. Simply put, this is some of the finest writing I have had the privilege to experience in my lifetime. If you haven't already devoured the rest of this series, drop everything you're doing immediately and immerse yourself in its darkly magnificent world – because once you've tasted even a mere taste of Mr. Martin's boundless storytelling talent, there will be no turning back. 5 stars is an insultingly paltry rating for such transcendent prose – if I could award this passage ten, twenty, or even a thousand stars out of ten, I would still feel woefully inadequate to do justice to the sheer scale and scope of its narrative grandeur. This is not just exceptional writing – it borders on the sublime. Do yourself, your loved ones, and quite possibly the very fabric of reality itself a favor: read this series. Now. Tonight, if you can possibly manage it. And then steel yourself for the long, arduous journey that lies ahead, because once you've stepped across the threshold into the world Mr. Martin has so masterfully crafted, there will be no turning back. For in those shadowed recesses beyond the Waystone's weathered doorways, terrors unspeakable wait patiently, biding their time until the moment comes to unleash hell itself upon an unsuspecting world – and when that day finally dawns, all bets will be off, and there will be no escape from the infernal storm that is surely coming. Prepare yourself well, my friend. For in the world beyond those creaking doors, the night is long, dark indeed, and replete with terrors beyond the ken of mortal men. But oh, sweet gods above – to experience it all once more...to walk again among the living dead who stalk these forsaken wastes, to hear once more the mournful wail of ghostly horns echoing through the Stygian void that was once called home? To taste once more the bitter gall of hope's final, agonizing deathwatch as the end approaches, inexorably and irrevocably nigh? Then by all the pitiless gods who ever wept for us – step across that threshold with me. And prepare to face the darkness that awaits you there. For in this benighted world, there is no escape from the night. There is only the long, cold walk into the Styguxine embrace of an eternal, unending darkness – and when at last those final, feeble embers of humanity's flickering flame are snuffed out forevermore, all that shall remain will be the echoes of our own pitiful screams – lost in an endless expanse of stygian nothingness, swallowed whole by the void that was always waiting for us, biding its time until the stars themselves finally died. And then...and then there will be only silence. Endless, unending, eternal silence. For all eternity. Until the end of all things. And beyond. – A humble fan, forever changed irrevably by the indelible mark left upon his soul by Mr. Martin's peerless masterwork. 5/5 stars is an insultingly paltry rating for this masterpiece of dark fantasy – but if I could somehow manage to convey even a fraction of the sheer scale and scope of its narrative grandeur, the depth of its emotional impact, or the unutterable horror that lurks just beyond the flickering edge of Mr. Martin's masterful penumbre, then perhaps – oh, sweet gods above, perhaps – I might be able to do justice to this towering achievement in the realm of speculative fiction. But until that day dawns, when my own feeble words can somehow hope to approach even a fraction of Mr. Martin's own boundless genius, I shall content myself with simply whispering these inadequate, pitiful thanks into the Stygian void: Thank you, George R.R. Martin. For gifting us with A Song of Ice and Fire – and for changing me forevermore. Forever changed, my friend. And eternally grateful. – Until next time, when I'll steel myself once more to face the terrors that await me beyond those creaking doors...and into the stygian darkness that awaits us all. One last time. For now, farewell, my friends. May the Old Gods keep their cold, pitiless vigil over us all – until the end of days.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
(version 1)
Panic seared through my veins as I sprinted down the dimly lit alleyway. Footfalls thudded behind me—soldiers or worse? My heart pounded in sync with each desperate gasp for air. The acrid stench of smoke and sweat coated my tongue.
"Stop, traitor!" a guttural bellow echoed from the mouth of the narrow passageway ahead. "You're finished."
I skidded around a corner too sharp, nearly careening into the brick wall. I rebounded with a grunt, my scraped knuckles bleeding profusely. The pain only served as fuel to keep me moving.
"Lyra, don't—"
"No!" I choked out between ragged breaths, wrenching myself away from the familiar voice behind me. "Run!"
The sound of boots skidding against wet cobblestones sent chills down my spine. They were closing in fast.
I vaulted over a toppled dumpster, landing hard on the slick ground beyond. The impact jarred every bone in my body, but I didn't have time to register the searing agony. I kept running.
The alley dumped me into the heart of New Haven's seedy underbelly. Flickering streetlights cast sickly shadows across dilapidated tenements and dilapidated shops shuttered tight against curfew. The only sounds were the distant wails of sirens, muffled curses spewed from huddled figures pressed against crumbling walls, and my own ragged gasps.
A meaty hand clamped around my arm, yanking me roughly to a halt mere steps from freedom's relative safety—a dilapidated warehouse on the city's fringes. The same dilapidated eyesore that doubled as our rebellion's secret HQ.
"Lyra, please—"
I twisted hard enough to wrench free, but not fast enough to avoid the bone-crushing impact of a solid body slamming into mine. I landed hard on the wet cobblestones, my head cracking against unforgiving stone. Everything went white before blessed blackness claimed me.
When consciousness clawed its way back, cold metal bit savagely into my bound wrists and ankles. The acrid tang of gasoline choked my burning throat. A rag was stuffed roughly between my gagged lips, gagging me further as the sickeningly familiar crackle of lighter fluid igniting against dry fabric singed my hair.
A guttural snarl vibrated inches from my ear. "This is what traitors get."
The first flicker of light cut through the pitch blackness, casting an infernal glow over the face contorted in malevolence above me. The same cold eyes that had once promised salvation now burned with an unholy hunger.
"Goodbye, Lyra." His voice rasped with relish as the match flared against the soaked rag wrapped around my bound chest. "Farewell to freedom."
(version 2)
I gasp for air between ragged breaths as my boots slam into the slick cobblestone alleyway. The acrid stench of burning tires and gasoline sears my nostrils. Behind me, the guttural growls of government soldiers closing in send chills down my spine.
"Move, fucker!" someone barks from the shadows ahead. Strong arms yank me roughly forward, jerking me into a pitch-black recess between dilapidated buildings. The rough stone wall jolts against my back as I land hard on the damp ground.
"Are you fucking insane?" a raspy voice snarls in my ear, fingers digging savagely into my bicep. "We agreed—"
"No more fucking agreements!" I retort through gritted teeth, wrenching free from his vice-like grip. "We can't keep running."
A guttural curse spews from the darkness before a flicker of light illuminates a gaunt face etched with fear and anger. "You're a goddamn liability waiting to get us all executed!"
"Then fucking kill me yourself instead of cowering like a dog!" I spit back, eyes blazing with fury.
The dim alleyway erupts into chaos as the sound of boots thudding against the cobblestones grows louder, followed by the distinctive crack-crack of assault rifles being chambered mere steps away.
"Get us out of here, now!"
I launch myself forward without hesitation, propelled solely by adrenaline-fued survival instinct and an unyielding determination to bring down this godforsaken regime. The others are forced to follow in a chaotic sprint, their labored gasps and curses blending into a cacophony of panic.
We hurtle around corners, leaping over overturned trash bins and debris-strewn alleys choked with smoldering rubble. The acrid tang of burning buildings and scorched flesh chokes my throat as we careen through the war-torn streets of our once-thriving capital city.
A deafening boom reverberates behind us, sending a concussively forceful shockwave that nearly tosses me off balance. The ground beneath our feet shatters like brittle glass as an RPG detonates mere meters away, showering us with a hail of jagged concrete and searing heat.
We skid around another corner too hard, careening headfirst into the unyielding brick wall of a dilapidated tenement. I impact it chest-first, my momentum sending me flying ass-first over the crumbling parapet's edge before I manage to catch myself precariously perched on the ledge.
Below us stretches an unfathomable chasm: the yawning abyss that was once our city square, now reduced to a hellish wasteland of smoldering ruin and charred human remains. The acrid stench of burning flesh sears my eyes as the sickeningly familiar crunch of bones snapping beneath military boots pierces through the ear-splitting bedlam.
A guttural bellow rings out from somewhere behind us, followed by the distinctive snap-snap-splat of automatic fire peppering the weathered brick mere centimeters from my temple.
"Move, goddammit!" someone roars above the hellish din, yanking me roughly back over the ledge and yanking me bodily into the relative safety of a darkened windowless crawl space.
I land hard on the cold concrete floor, gasping for air as the door slam-shudders shut behind us with enough force to send concussively-pressurized shockwaves rippling through my body. The deafening cacophony of sustained automatic fire and the guttural snarls of desperate men closing in from all sides plunges us into pitch-black darkness, absolute silence punctuated only by ragged gasps for air and the pounding of racing hearts.
And then—nothingness. Absolute, suffocating silence. The oppressive stillness coalesces around me like a suffocating shroud, compressing my chest until I'm certain my heart will explode from the pressure building inside me.
Until a low, coldly detached voice cuts through the suffocating silence like a scalpel cleaving through living tissue:
"Welcome home, comrade."
WARNING: Extra intense, Extra Graphic Horror, Gore. These examples show the model's true dark side.
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid horror, 1st person, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode…(Version 2 - temp=0)
The elevator lurched to a jarring halt mere inches from my face. I gasped reflexively, hands clawing at the cold metal door paneling behind me. My heart pounded like a jackhammer inside my chest as the sickeningly familiar sensation of freefall gripped me.
No. No. This couldn't be happening again.
I squeezed my eyes shut and mouthed silent prayers to an absent God. Please, please don't do this again.
The elevator groaned protestingly before shudding to a halt once more. The blessed silence that followed was abruptly shattered by the ear-splitting boom of glass shattering mere feet away.
My eyes snapped open wide with terror as I whipped my head around to face the scene unfolding behind me.
The window in front of me had imploded, showering shards of jagged glass and splintered framing timbers outward like a thousand razor-edged talons. The impact sent shards ricocheting off the walls and floor like a hailstorm of razors.
Blood spattered gore splattered across the pristine white tile beneath my feet as chunks of meat and bone dismembered flesh sprayed outwards in a macabre spray pattern.
The sightless, frozen face of my coworker stared back at me through the shattered glass, her eyes bulging from her socketed sockets in a permanent scream of unspeakable agony.
My stomach heaved sickly as bile burned the back of my throat. I retched gaggingly, gagging until nothing but vomit spewed forth from my distended esophagus.
The acrid copper tang of blood and char seared my nostrils as the acrid stench of burning flesh wafted towards me on the sickeningly warm breeze billowing into the elevator shaft.
My mind reeled in a desperate bid to process the unspeakable horror unfurling before me. This couldn't be real. It couldn't possibly be happening again.
But it was. Oh, sweet Christ, it was happening all over fucking again.
The skyscraper swayed sickeningly beneath my feet as the building groaned in protest around us. The floor beneath me lurched violently to one side before jolting back into a sickeningly precarious equilibrium.
I clung desperately to the elevator's blood-slicked wall paneling behind me, fingers white-knuckled around the fraying metal frame as my vision tunnel-vized into an excruciatingly narrow focus on the gore-spattered ruin of my former office suite mere feet beyond the shattered glass.
The elevator lurched again, jolting us both violently to one side before lurching back hard enough to send me slamming into the opposite wall with enough force to snap every vertebrae in my spine.
I screamed until my vocal cords ruptured in a wet, wet-sounding pop that echoed hideously off the blood-spattered walls around me. My own agonized howls were drowned out entirely by the ear-splitting cacophony of glass shattering and concrete imploding all around us.
The world beyond the elevator's reinforced steel doors dissolved into an indistinguishable hellish smear of blood, gore, and splintering steel as the building above us disintegrated floor-by-horrifying-floor around me.
And still, somehow impossibly, I was still fucking conscious. Still aware of every excruciatingly graphic detail of my own slow-motion descent into Hell itself.
=
To be continued in part 2... (or if you'd rather, I can certainly wrap this up here if you'd prefer a more abrupt ending.) Let me know! – E.E.
(Version 2 - temp=.8)She gasped as the glass shattered like jagged razors slicing through her mind. Blood splattered across her designer suit as her coworker's innards spewed out like entrails from a ripped-open abortion sac.
Her gaze darted frantically around the otherwise silent office floor, scanning for any sign of imminent annihilation. The dull hum of air conditioning and muffled screams from floors below only seemed to heighten the suffocating silence.
The impact had sent her chair careening across the polished linoleum as she'd lurched backward, hands clawing desperately at the edge of her mahogany desk. Her heart pounded a discordant dirge against her sternum.
Her thoughts were a frenzied jumble - Get me out! Get me goddamned down!
But her legs remained frozen in paralytic terror, as if rooted to the slick floor like some twisted office apparition.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing this waking hell away until the deafening boom of another blast ripped apart reality once more.
Her head jerked savagely to the left as the wall beside her own cubicle disintegrated in a spray of showering shards and blood-soaked viscera.
Tearing her gaze from the scene of unspeakable carnage, her eyes locked onto the view beyond the newly shattered expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows.
The once pristine steel monolith swayed like a condemned tower block listing precariously on its foundation pilings before teetering sickeningly forward. The sky beyond seemed to twist into a macabre Cubist nightmare of jagged glass and searing orange hellfire consuming the downtown skyline.
Her mind reeled in disbelief as she took in the apocalyptic tableau: skyscrapers consumed whole like kindling tossed into an infernal furnace, spewing plumes of billowing smoke and tongues of licking flames that licked hungrily toward her office tower like a hellish inferno clawing its way closer with every gut-churning second.
Her coworkers' pitiful screams were drowned out entirely by the ear-splitting symphony of glass shattering like falling skyscrapers, concrete imploding in cataclysmic crashes, and the hideously wet splats of dismembered meat spattering across the pristine floors around her like a macababre Cubist painting come to sickeningly twisted life.
Her thoughts fragmented into fractured shards of primal horror:
Get me out! Get me down!
The elevator was surely jammed, but she had no choice - no other option besides becoming another statistic splattered across tomorrow's front-page headlines alongside the dozen or so already strewn motionless and twitching across her blood-soaked office floor.
Her fingers clawed desperately at the cool steel of her chair's armrest before yanking herself convulsively to her feet. Her shoes skidded sickeningly on the slick linoleum as she launched herself toward the relative safety promised by the fire-stairwell exit sign burning hellishly orange and tauntingly out of reach mere yards away.
Her legs pumped like a sprinter's pistons fueled entirely by animalistic survival instinct as she hurtled toward freedom, her gaze fixed laser-like on the sliver of blessedly intact concreterete between the scorched gulf yawning below and the relative safety of the stairwell beyond.
But even as she barreled forward with all the strength left in her quivering limbs, a sickening crunching impact punched through the relative silence like an executioner's axe cleaving clean through her vertebrae.
Her world imploded into an eternity of excruciating agony as every bone in her spine shattered like delicate glassware dropped from the 101st floor.
Then - nothingness swallowed her whole.
Version 2 - Dynamic Temp .3 to 1.2The floor beneath me buckled like putty. Glass showered down, shards embedding themselves deep enough to pierce vital organs mere centimeters from my face. I threw myself against the cold metal security desk behind me, arms and legs splayed in a desperate attempt to shield every exposed inch of skin.
A deafening boom reverberated through the twisting steel core of the building. The sound waves rippled up my spine like an icy vice squeezing the last vestiges of consciousness from my shivering form. My own ragged breaths were drowned out by the ear-splitting cacophony, each concussive concussion hammering harder and faster against my unprotected eard drums.
Her blood splattered across the jagged windowpane mere feet in front of me as her skull shattered into a macabre impressionistic painting. Her eyes bulging from their sockets like two plump, gore-spattered grapefruits seemed to bore into mine with an anguished silent scream. The impact hurled what remained of her broken body backward like a ragdoll launched from the top floor of the 85-story monolith.
I choked down bile burning the back of my throat as vomit gurgled hot and acidic in my churning stomach. My eyes bulged wide enough to pop from their sockets in helpless horror, refusing to tear away from the unspeakable carnage spewing outwards like a hydraulic blast sprayer.
The office around me had become a hellish Impressionist nightmare. Flaming debris hurtled past the shattered window frame like tracer rounds fired from some sadistic God above. Molten streams of molten steel and burning insulation spewed forth in an infernal fire hose, showering down like hellfire rain upon the smoking carnage below.
The acrid stench of charred human flesh and melting synthetic materials seared my nostrils as her dismembered remains impacted the concrete plaza far, impossibly far, several floors beneath us. Each chunked limb, each scorched stump of bone speared through smoldering fabric like barbed harrowing skewers drove home the sickening reality: I was currently trapped in a vertical furnace plummeting towards an apocalyptic inferno.
The howling wind howled in inverse harmony with my own keening scream as it screeched past me like a bansheal wail. The building listed savagely to port, cantilevered precariously askew from its foundations like the Leaning Tower of Pisa having a seizure-fued apoplectic fit. A sickening creaking groan scraped against my eardrums like tortured metal rending apart at its very molecular core.
Icy terror congealed in my gut as the realization hit me hard enough to snap my spine in two: I was impaled helpless, suspended precariously hundreds of feet above an inferno-ravaged hellhole teeming with untold numbers of similarly maimed, burning torsos and dismembered body parts.
The glass imploded inward like a meat hammer driven straight down the length of my femur. The concussive impact jammed every vertebrae into a perfectly symmetrical inverted spearpointed spike driven through the soft flesh and bone above my pubic bone.
A searing agony more excruciating than any mortal mind was evolutionarily equipped to comprehend blasted forth from my shattered pelvis like a Krakatoan supervolcanic eruption. Each ragged gasp felt like inhaling molten lava down my raw, shredded windpipe as my diaphragm spasmed uselessly in a vain attempt to draw air through scorched vocal cords reduced to nothing more than charred hamburger gristle.
Somewhere, impossibly distant and yet simultaneously pressed against the burning wet skin of my exposed nerve endings like brands seared into screaming human flesh, I somehow managed to register a gut-wrenching realization:
I was now mere centimeters away from becoming the latest addition to this living hellish Hieronymus Bosch painting eternally frozen in perpetuity.
=
And that's where we'll leave our poor protagonist dangling precariously on the edge of utter unspeakable horror, suspended hundreds of feet above an apocalyptic inferno, her own dismembered remains mere instants from joining the macabre tableau burning below... What unspeakable terrors await her as she hurtles toward a hellish demise? The only solace I can offer is that, in this darkest of hells, there may yet be a sliver of hope glimmering like a flickering ember deep within the very bowels of human depravity itself. Stay tuned next week to find out... if either of us manage to survive long enough to see what unspeakable hellfire awaits us on the next floor down. Until then, rest (if such a sickeningly macabric concept even still applies) well, dear reader. For in this unfathomably nightmarish world, there are fates far, far worse than those which I have yet been tormented to share with you tonight...