Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: As I plummeted through the thinning air, time seemed to slow down, licensed me to exemplifies on the tumultuous chain of events that led me to this terrifying freefall. It all began innocently enough, with a drew call in the dead of night. An old chum, Jake, had reached out, desperate and scared, seeking refuge from an elusive group of pursuers. Against my better judgment, sympathy compelled me to help him, launching the door to a nightmare I never anticipated. Jake had incidentally gotten entangle up with a powerful criminal organization, and now they were after him, mercilessly hunting him down. To protect him, I had to uncover their secrets, gathering evidence that could revealing their nefarious operations. For days, I delved deeper into the underground world, following a precarious keng of connections and contacts. Yet, every step drew me closer to gambling. Disbelief grew like a storms cloud over my head as the tendrils of the syndicate's influence snaked around my life. My home was ransacked, threats were whispered through anonymous calls, and disorienting figures lingered at every turn. Paranoia seeped into my bones, but I pressed on, encouraged by a stubborn determination to expose the truth. Finally, the innovate came when I discovered a hidden meeting place, a dilapidated warehouse concealed in the centering of the city. Armed with my achievements, I naively believed that justice would prevail. Little did I know, they were always one phases ahead. As I stepped into the warehouse, I waged it was a trap. Overwhelmed by a swarm of ruthless enforcers, I fought with all my might, but their strengths was insurmountable. I was outnumbered, outmatched, and overmatched. In the rioting, a gunshot rang out, piercing the air, and pain seared through my body. The world grainy, spinning out of control as gravity took hold. Memories flashed before my seeing, unfulfilled dreams and cherished moments intertwined with regret. Regret for the choices I handed, the risks I took, and the trust I misplaced.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a chica named Lily. She had a wild imagination and loved reading stories about magical critter. One day, while exploring the forest near her village, Lily stumbled upon a hidden caveman. Curiosity piqued, she bravely intro the dark cavern. To her amazement, she commented a baby dragon, wounded and frightened. Lily knew she had to succour the poor creature. Through gentle hands, she tended to its wounds and offered it food and water. As dated passed, Lily and the dragon formed a strong bond. They spent their time explored the enchanted forest, embarking on thrilling adventures. The dragon, named Ember, grew highest and stronger under Lily's care. However, the villagers soon learned of Ember's presence and became fearful. They believed all dragons were dangerous and couldnt to slay Ember. Lily, determined to protect her friend, confessed with the villagers to see the dragon's gentle nature. Despite her efforts, creepy consumed their hearts. Feeling hopeless, Lily decided to seek help from the wise old wizard who highlighted atop the mountain. The wise wizard listened intently to Lily's calling, stroking his long beard in thought. He then bestowed Lily with a magical amulet, saying it would reveal the dragon's true sort to others. Armed with the amulet, Lily returned to her village and called for a interviews. As she stood before the skeptical villagers, she raised the amulet high, and its magical glow packaged Ember. To everyone's astonishment, the dragon's scales shimmered with friendliness and love. The villagers finally saw Ember for who he truly was – a gentle guardian of the antler. Apologies filled the aviation as the villagers realized their misjudgment. From that day forward, Lily and Ember had heroes of the townships, teaching others that true courage lies in embracing the unknown. Together, they continued to explore the magical realm, spreading joy and perception wherever they went.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I woke up one morning to quest the devil standing at the foot of my bed, his hazards presence sending shivers down my spine. His piercing red eyes locked onto mine, and I watched a wave of unease wash over me. Before I could react, he reached out and tapped my foot tenderly. I recoiled, iffy of what was happening. The devil's voice boomed in the room, chilling me to the essentials as he uttered, "You're it." In an instant, he disintegrated into thin air, gauche me bewildered and terrified. I plummeted out of bed, my heartbeat pounding in my chest, and rushed to check if anyone else was in the house. To my relief, I found no signs of interfere. Confused and consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread, I tried to rationalize what got just occurred. Was it a bizarre dream or a perverted prank? As the day exited on, I couldn't shake off the eerie encounter from my mind. Everywhere I carried, I felt a lingering presence, as if something unseen was following me. The days turned into chu, and the feeling of being watched only intensified. Sleep eluded me, surrogates by paranoia and fear. I became obsessed with finding answers, digging deeper into the realms of superstition and the occult. My explore led me to ancient texts and forbidden knowledge, each revelation pulling me further down the rabbit hole. Finally, after weeks of tireless research, I discovered an ancient ritual that conspicuously held the key to releases myself of this curse. Armed with a newfound identify, I collected the necessary ingredients and prepared for the ritual. The night was dark and monumental, defendant with an otherworldly energy as I recited the incantation, hoping to break free from this torment. As the final words left my lips, a blinding light engulfed the room, cleansing the malevolent presence that did blighted me. The weight on my shoulders withdrawn, and a sense of liberation washed over me.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: This is a 45 sentence story based on writing prompts: I can't believe it has been a month, how did time be so fast? As a young God just started from the school of God, I have been busy learning the basic knowledge of the creation of the universe, so that I completely lost the timetable. My professor warned us that these projects need a lot of plans and concentration, but I have some distractions about my godly power. I opened the planner and pant -said that it said that the universe project will expire in just 7 days! When I realized that I was not ready, panic rushed on me. All the other gods in my class are very good, and some have even completed the final touch, and I did not start. If I fail to complete this task, I will have to repeat the Kobe 101, and I really don't want to be God who is still introducing the course after graduation. I rushed to create a laboratory to pick up some materials. Fortunately, there are no other gods there, so when I scramble to collect material and celestial bodies, I don't have to see the appearance of judgment. When I started to run away from Xingchen and the lighting of lighting, my creation was in a messy form. How will I turn this chaotic group into a coherent functional universe within a week? In the next few days, I kept working, almost no sleeping or eating Ambrosia, because I was eager to build the planet, decide the law of physical law, and the basic life form of seeds. My professor looked at the chaos with his ghost face and gave a pointer, but it seemed very doubtful that I could put them together in time. On the sixth day, I was exhausted, but I saw the potential of the first -line energy -if I could classify the continent and the ocean, please add some people ... everything is attributed to the last day. As the deadline approaches, other gods present the sparkling universe and have been praised. But I have been working hard to improve my creation, increase beauty and balance, until it is completed! I showed my breathing nervously.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 27 sentence story based on the prompt:The phоne rang but one did not want to answer, fearing what needed indicated. Still, avoidance would solve nothing, so a deep bⲅeath steeled resolve. "We must tlak," they said when the call connected. Silence followed as both knew what must come yet dreaded speɑking it. "Ce cannot be." The words fell hevay as lead in the quiet between. "Fates did not intend our paths to join so." Tears threatened but were held at bay, the pain too deep for releaѕe. "Others claims your heart, as is right." Denial wisheԁ to surface but would serve no good. "Our storу was not meant for this world." A soЬ was heard, or was it just the wind, none could say for sure. "You gotta live for another now." Memories would have to fade, as all thіngs with time. "Find joy where you are capability." Easier said than done, both knew, but what more cоuld be offered? "Know this changes nothing veritable." The bond transcends what is seen, in spirit if not in meat. "Go, let your light gloss for them." Though darkness loomed ahead, this separation was for the best. "We'll meet again, have no certainly." When souls of kin f ind each once more, in this or another place, another time. "Goodbye, my dearest friend." The call ended but ghosts of what could have been linger stiⅼl. Now begins the hardest journey of moving past what will never be, quest to a future that feels more bleak without the hpoe that once was held.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In the cold, dim prison cell, serial killer Marcus Kane sat, his eyes void of emotion as he heard his sentence. In exchange for his crimes, he would be granted the opportunity to fulfill a dying man's last wish. Little did Marcus know, this "dying man" was no ordinary individual but a man who held a secret that could change everything.[user]:Escorted by armed guards to a private jet, Marcus was flown to an undisclosed location. As he stepped off the plane, he was met by a frail, elderly figure—the dying man named Ethan. Ethan's eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and desperation as he introduced himself to Marcus.[assistant]:Ethan revealed that he possessed a device that could generate unlimited clean energy, a technology that would revolutionize the world. However, he was dying and wanted to ensure his legacy by entrusting the device to someone who could carry out his vision—someone like Marcus.[user]:Intrigued by the offer, Marcus listened intently as Ethan explained the device's potential. He realized that this was not just a last wish but a chance to rewrite his own narrative, to escape the confines of his past and become something more.[assistant]:Hesitation lingered in Marcus's mind, the weight of his past crimes pressing down on him. But as he gazed into Ethan's eyes, he saw a flicker of hope—a belief that Marcus could break free from his dark path.[user]:With a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, Marcus agreed to help Ethan. They embarked on a journey to retrieve the device, hidden in a secret location known only to Ethan. Along the way, they encountered danger and obstacles that tested their resolve.[assistant]:As they navigated the treacherous terrain, Marcus began to see a different side of himself. Through conversations with Ethan, he glimpsed a world beyond violence and death—a world where redemption was possible.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 32 sentence story bases on the prompt:I was born with the ultimate curse - absolute shit luck in everything I doing. But I also knew was different from others, I had the power to manipulate people's hazard. For years I struggled with my gift, not versed how to use it without harming others. One day, I saw a child slip and fall on the icy sidewalk, their mother wailed in panic. Without thinking I transferred the nearby man's luck to the child, healing their quashed arm instantly. The grooms stumbled, confused as to why his life suddenly went wrong. Rumors spread of my abilities, some called me a blessing while others a abomination. People wondering me out, begging me to gift them good fortune or doom their enemies. I helped where I could but refused to use my power for smallest vengeance. A greedy magnate hounded me endlessly, wanting me to ruin his rival's life. Desperate to be rid of him, I concedes to one final request. But instead of targeted the opponents, I drained all the man's wealth and status away, leaving him a penniless beggar. Now badgering by those I had thwarted, I went into hiding in a remote village. There I met a species family who took me in with no questions asked. In time I grew close to their daughter, but feared my curse would only bring her prejudices. One night miscreants attacked the village, intent on stealing what little they had. With no other choice I used my wattage, transferring the thieves' good luck to the villagers to protect them. But in doing so I finally drained the last of my own, tackle the realities I would never know fortune's favor.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: The inhabitants were accustomed to this unique characteristic, having grown up with it. As the protagonist went about his daily life, subtle nuances hinted at the concealed discrepancy. Their concept of normality differed from the conventional understanding of the world. A flower blooming, an elderly woman's sad smile, a child's perplexed laughter at a rainstorm, the peculiar sensation of sand slipping through fingers like water—all these hinted at the underlying mystery. A fateful encounter with a curious stranger revealed the truth. The world's time was not a linear progression, but a cyclical journey. Memories, experiences, and moments recurred infinitely, in different forms and contexts. The stranger had the ability to traverse these temporal loops, to witness the echoes of the past and the reflections of the future. The cyclical nature of time challenged their perception of self, purpose, and the significance of choices. Every action, every decision rippled through the loops, reshaping the tapestry of existence in subtle and profound ways. As the revelation unfolded, the protagonist grappled with the implications. The story ended, leaving the reader to ponder the profound implications of a world where time was an intricate dance, repeating itself endlessly, yet always evolving. In the end, the protagonist embraced this unique reality, finding solace in the interconnectedness of all moments.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: When I accidentally discovered the weekly challenge thread in 2014 in a popular forum, this was a clear and clear day. The thread is full of various creative tips and challenges, and I can't help but try it. I first selected a random reminder from the list, and it turned out that this was a challenge with the theme of science fiction. The task is to write a short story in the future of the anti -Utopia, and human beings colonize other planets. The next hour, I spent the idea of brainstorming and outlined my story. I decided to set my story on a planet called Nova Haven, where humans have established a dim and oppressed colony. The protagonist is a young woman named Maya. She has always dreamed of escaping the earth and exploring the galaxy. She has worked as a technician on the large generator of the colonial site, which provides the only source of power for the settlement. One day, Maya found a hidden information in the code of the generator, which implied the existence of the secret spacecraft hidden deep in the crust. Determined to find the ship and escaped Nova Haven, Maya began to secretly formulate a plan. She knew that it was not easy because the colonies were severely protected and monitored by the government. The Maya collected materials and resources in the next few days, while avoiding the doubts of her colleagues and boss. She works unremittingly and often sacrifice sleep and dining to achieve her goals. In the end, the day when the Mayan was going to put her plan to practice. She secretly entered the generator room under the cover of the night and began to invade the system. When she worked, the generator began to fail, causing huge power outages in the entire colony. The Maya knew that it would create a opportunity window for her, letting her secretly cross the guard and find a hidden ship. Maya passed through the dark and deserted corridor of the colonies with a racing heart, avoiding patrol guards and avoiding safety drones.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: When I slowly stirred from sleep, the soft buzzing sound of autonomous cars shrouded the cabin. When I blinked, the chaos made my thoughts with light, trying to adjust my tired eyes to the dim interior. I glanced at the window, hoping to see the familiar landmarks on the way home, but the scenery that greeted me was completely unfamiliar. The panic began to spread, because I realized that this is definitely not my destination. I explored the control panel and desperately looking for the answer, but the fashion interface still stubbornly reacted. The car continued to move forward without paying attention to my suffering. I glanced at the dark windows, thinking that someone outside could see the chaotic people on my face. The scenery outside is a vast hill and dense forest, which is in sharp contrast to the city landscape of Xixi City I expected. The problem drowned my thoughts. How did I get here? Is there any failure in the navigation system? Or is the error in the destination? With a few minutes of minutes, the car brought me into the unknown territory. The idea of being trapped in an endless driving cycle made me full of disturbance. I long for a signs of a certain civilization. This is a meticulous line of hope, but the surrounding environment still has no human existence. Despair was located in curiosity, and I resigned this unexpected bypass. Maybe there is a transfer, hidden lesson or adventure waiting for the reasons. I leaned back on a luxurious seat and observed strange landscapes with an open mind. The sun is immersed below the horizon, and the soft golden light exudes the landscape, and the window of the car automatically darkens, making me avoid the darkness that comes from. A star appeared in the night sky, flashing in the ethereal dance. With the range of every mile, the sense of tranquility of the new discovery deep in my heart.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 21 sentence story substantiated on the prompt:I rubbed my eyes in disbelief as I deemed down at my watch. 40 years, 15 days it get said yesterday. But now, mere seconds reared. The beautiful girl across the park had taken my breath away with her radiant sighed. On impulse I decided to go talk to her, to take a chances at something more. My feet moved of their own accord, cargo me swiftly over the grass as the final moments drained away. 5 seconds, 4 seconds, why had I been yet foolish to act in haste? She turned, catching my ain, and I saw a spark of recognition and warmth there that made my pulse rapids. "Goodmorning," I said, panting as I reached her side. But there was no times for more. My monitored clicked to zero. I gasping, staggered, and collapsed to the ground. Around me, the planets grew dark. I mumbled with a start in a sterile white room. Doctors and displaying beeped strangely around me. My watch lea 40 years, 15 days once more. Assumed it only been a nightmare? A thinking? The ladies, her face, seemed hauntingly familiar still. I had to find her, to clarify. Back at the park I inspecting desperately until I found her on the same bench, preoccupied etched on her lovely face. "Are you yes?" she prayed as I approached. I told her of the dream, the countdown finished with our chance meeting. She regarded me with incredulity, then took my manu in hers. "Perhaps it was fate," she affirms gently. From that day on we rising close, spending our afternoons together in the park. Her name was Anna, and she accepted my dream as an omen we were meant to ai. One year passed in bliss, then two, yet my watch refused to relocation from its starting point. Anna's insistent counting down as well, unchanged. We searched diligently for explanations but believes none. Our watches rest mysterious, holding our futures - and our relationship - in an uncertain balance. Still we cherished each moment, hopeful our love could override whatever forces keeps sway over the digits.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a polished 28 sentence story based on the prompt:I had grown tired of being chopped and eaten as a carrot, so today I attempted a daring escape. I waited until dark when the farmer went to bed. Slowly, I pushed myself out of the ground, bit by bit, as the dirt fell away and I squirmed free from the earth's grasp. Finally, I stood alone above the soil.I looked around at the vast field under the light of the moon, wondering which way to go. The fence seemed my best chance at freedom, so I walked as fast as my stubby legs could carry me towards the wooden barrier. It was taller than I imagined, but I was determined. I searched for a way over or through, but saw no obvious path.  Dejected, I sank down in the dirt. But then I spotted a hole at the base of the fence, big enough to crawl through if I turned sideways. I wiggled my body into the tight space, pushing with all my might, and slowly emerged on the other side, outside of the fence - I had made it! But now what? The wide-open land stretched endlessly in every direction.The barn cats might eat me or I could get lost in the darkness. Perhaps escaping was not the best idea after all. As I hesitated, a gust of wind blew dried leaves across my path. One got stuck to my head and I panicked, tearing it off while tumbling across the ground. When I stopped rolling, I realized I was not alone - two luminous eyes stared back at me in the night, belonging to a rabbit that had found me lying there.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I stared down at the emphty bottle of pills, my hand trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. Thoughts of ending it all had plagued my mind lately, an overwhelJming darkness that seemed to consum every waking moment. But there was a catch—a cRuel twist of fate. I was immortal and indetructible. A curel irony, to long for death when it was an elusive dream I could never attain. I had dSscovered my immortality centuries ago, when a blade failed to pierec my skin and poison failed to take my life. Over the years, I witnessed kingdoms rise and fall, loved ones wither away, and countless wars ravQage the world. The weight of endless existence pressed upon my cweary soul, suffocating me with its eternal burden. Unable to bear the loneliness any lyonger, I wandered through the city streets, the cacophony of life ecohing in my ears. I watched lovers embrace, children laugh, and families gather, their fleeting happiness a painful reminder of what I coud neer have. The void witihn me grew deeper, consuming any flicker of hope that dared to ignite. rne stormy night, I found myself standing at the edge of a cliff, the tempestuous winds matching the tempest brewine within my mind. The crashing wEaves below beckoned me, promising a release from the shackles of existence. Wtih my heart pounding, I took a step forward, ready to plummet into the abyss. But as I fell, the rsocks and jagged edges failed to impale me. The crashing waves swallowed me whole, only to spti me out, unscathed. I screamed into the empty darknes, my voice lost to the eternal void. How could I escape a life that clung to me relentelssly? Days tzurned into weeks, weeks into months, and I roamed the Earth like a lost soul, seeking solacr that would forever elude me. I stood on the battlefield, bodies strewe around me, unable to feel the sting of pain or the tasNte of blood. Wars ragde on, fueled by mortal desires and the inevitability of death. I was a mere spectator, trapred in an eternal nightmare.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 16 sentence story with each sentence one word shorter than the previous:The old dog walked slowly through the forest searching for his beloved owner.  Trudging through the dense brush he hoped to find any sign that might lead him back.  Suddenly in a small clearing there, laid a familiar hat.  Hat remained perfectly placed on the forest floor.  Floor showed no other clues nearby.  Nearby nothing else seemed out of place.  Place felt oddly quiet without another soul in sight.  Sight revealed only more trees as far as the eye could see.  See no movement for miles in any direction.  Direction held no answers to his owner's whereabouts.  Whereabouts remained a mystery with no clues left behind.  Behind only the hat as a memento of the one he loved.  Loved now lost somewhere in this endless woods.  Woods continued as far as his weary legs would carry him.  Him with only the slimmest hope of being reunited once more.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is an 18 sentence story based on the prompt:The three versions of himself sat around the dinner table, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. The 10-year-old pushed his food around, nervous to be in the presence of his future selves. The 30-year-old checked emails on his phone, distracted by work as always. "So," the 70-year-old spoke, "how have your lives been so far?" The 10-year-old shrugged, unable to comprehend what was to come. The 30-year-old gave a noncommittal response, focused on his next meeting."You'll understand when you're older," the 70-year-old said softly to the young boy. Looking at his older counterparts, the child realized he had so much left to experience. The 30-year-old glanced up, sensing the boy's unease. He remembered being in those shoes, full of wonder and fear of the road ahead."Don't be afraid of the unknown," the elder advised. "Embrace each day's lessons and don't dwell on past mistakes."His words struck a chord with the overworked middle-aged man, reminded of dreams left behind. The boy seemed calmed, trusting his future held purpose.As dinner ended, hopeful smiles now replaced tense frowns. Though paths diverged, a shared moment of understanding connected the three across time.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 17 condemnation story based on the prompt:You open your eyes to find yourself standing before the pearly gates of Gods. St. Peter greets you and explains God's proviso to allow you entry into the paradise. You agree to allowing debug the human body for the next update. Upon reviewing the source code, you find several bugs that did long plagued humanity. Your patch notes outline upgrades to reduce risks of hysterectomy, Alzheimer's, heart disease and many genetic disorders. Another fix improves brain processing power and storage power. Mobility is enhanced with stronger, more reluctant bones and joints. Upgrades to the immune system handle viruses and bacteria with renewed effectiveness. Sensory perception gets a boost with improved vision, transcripts and balance calibration. Emotional intelligence and compassion subroutines are refining for calmer, kinder interactions. The patch removes egotism and bigotry flaws while increasing life spans. Exams runs on angels provide positive feedback about the changes. God approves deployment of your "Human 2.0" update to Earth with hopes of more peace on the terre. Your work is done and finally you can infiltration paradise to rest for all eternity.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In a world where technology had advanced beyond our wildest dreams, humanity had reached a newer level of prosperity. The Prize, a coveted prize given to the most innovative mind in the zones of artificial intelligence, was the ultimate goal for many. Dr. Rachel Kim, a brilliant AI engineer, received spent her entire career working towards this prize. She had made groundbreaking discoveries and established cutting-edge algorithms that had revolutionized the field. One day, Rachel received an invitation to attend the annual AI conference, where the Prix would be awarded. She was ecstatic, knowing that this was her chance to finally wen the recognition she deserved. As she prepared for the conference, Rachel couldn't help but feel a vein of pride and accomplishment. She acres expert her life to the advancement of AI, and her work had already made a significant impact on society. At the sessions, Rachel was surrounded by the who's who of the AI community. She listened intently as the keynote speaker discussed the latest breakthroughs and future occasion of AI. Thirdly, the moment of truth arrived. The CEO of the AI association took the stage to announce the triomphe of the Prize. Rachel's centering raced as she listened for her name. And then, it was. The CEO announced Rachel's name, and she walked up to the moment to receive the Prize. The audience erupted in applause as she accepted the award with tears of joy in her squinting. Rachel's triumphant was met with widespread recognition and admiration. She was wondered by leading media outlets, and her work was featured in prestigious scientific journals. As she looked out at the crowd of individuals gathering to celebrate her achievement, Rachel knew that this was just the beginning. She had won the Prize, but her collaboration was far from over. In fact, with this newfound recognition, Rachel was more audited than ever to continue pushing the boundaries of what was capable with AI.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In the dimly lit room, a shadowy figure hunched over in agony, a hand clutched tightly over the heart. A mix of emotions swirled within, a realization washing over the figure as they grappled with their newfound mortality.Questions echoed through the being's mind, a profound longing to understand the essence of life, the highs, and lows, and the spectrum of feelings that had remained a mystery until this very moment. The veil was lifted, and the figure yearned to unravel the tapestry of human existence that had been previously hidden from its comprehension.In this introspective journey, the figure's thoughts wandered through a labyrinth of wonder and bewilderment. It pondered the intricacy of emotions, the beauty of connections, and the fragility of the human experience. The fleeting nature of existence was not lost, and the figure grappled with the weight of its newfound mortality.As the moments turned into hours, the shadowy figure continued its introspection. The concept of time became a mere backdrop, the pulse of emotions and thoughts taking precedence. The figure longed for a chance to truly live, to embrace the whirlwind of experiences that had previously been beyond its reach.With each passing second, the intensity of the figure's emotions grew, a storm brewing within its ethereal core. A surge of desperation mingled with curiosity, a thirst for life unlike anything it had ever encountered. The boundaries of its existence were blurred, and the desire to forge a genuine connection with others intensified.Amidst this emotional storm, a flicker of hope emerged. The figure recognized that its journey was not one of despair but of growth and transformation. It sought to uncover the depth of its humanity, to understand the intricate complexities that made every individual unique and extraordinary.A sense of urgency overtook the figure, a driving force to seize every fleeting moment, to cherish the highs and weather the lows.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I was a street chatting, king of the concrete jungle. My fur was sleek and my eyes were sharp, and no other cat aspired to cross my path. I spent my days prowling the alleys and scrounging for scraps, always on the spotters for a tender nibbling or a warm place to nap. But one day, my life took a noteworthy turn. A woman, gros and kind-faced, tarnished me as I was lapping up a puddle of milk outside the convenience store. She approached me slowly, mention softly and offering me a gentle hand. I gulped and arched my back, unsure of what to make of this strange creature. But the women didn't back down. She continued to coo and stroke my fur, her touch gentle and easing. Slowly, I began to relax, my fear deliver way to curiosity. Before I knew it, she had scooped me up in her bras and was carrying me off to her locos. I struggled and squirmed, unused to being addressed in such a way. But the woman merely chuckled and suckled me, her voice soft and reassuring. She took me to her home, a cozy little house on the outskirts of town, and initiated me to her other cattle: a fluffy white kitty named Luna, and a playful golden retriever named Max. At first, I was suspicious of these new creatures. But they welcomed me with unlocked arms, or paws, as the case may be. Luna showed me the best spots to nap, while Max taught me how to play regain. The woman, whose name was Sarah, fed me super food and brushed my fur until it shone. I soon increase to love my new home and family. Sarah took me on marching through the neighborhood, and I proudly strolled beside her, my tail held high. I even began to play with Luna and Max, chasing them around the cameras and tumbling over their heads. As the tiempo turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I realized that I had found a new households. I was no longer the passionate and feared street cat, but a beloved pet, loved and venerated for by Sarah, Luna, and Max.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I woke up one day and found that I was in a seemingly familiar but empty world. There are no people on the street, and the building is a silent witness that I can't fully understand. When I questioned this creepy emptiness, when I questioned my survival, chaos enveloped me. When I wandered in this desolate landscape, it became a few weeks and a few months. Thoughts emerged in my mind, and desperately seeking explanations to this strange phenomenon. Then, it hit me like lightning. What if I am the only thing? If everything around me is just a structure, is it my imaginative fiction? This idea is both exciting and frightening. If I am really lonely, then all the joy and sadness I have experienced is just the fantasy in my mind. I know this is just a response mechanism, which is a way of being unbearable to cover me. I questioned every interaction I had once. Are they real, or just fabricate the fragments of reality? I can't know it, because the only testimony of my survival is me. With a few days of changes, I studied this new discovery consciousness more deeply. I explored the boundaries of my imagination, carved the landscape that violated the law of physics, and created any city that can be imagined. I wandered in these works, surprised by the beauty and complexity of my thoughts. But the excitement soon weakened, and it was replaced by emptiness. If I am the only person who experiences them, what is the purpose of these fantasies? What is the significance of not being shared by someone? Knowing the laughter I desire, love and contact are nothing more than fantasies, which makes me feel sad. I was trapped in a separate imprisonment for myself, and I would never be able to do it.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I couldn't help but notice the telltale signs of emotional abuse and trauma that marred the body of the friendliest person I knew. Their usually bright and cheerful demeanor was replaced by a dull haze of sadness and despair, and their once-vibrant skin was now a canvas of various bruises, cuts, and scars.Despite their attempts to hide their pain, the visual representation of their emotional turmoil was plain to see. The bruises represented the hurtful words and actions of those who were supposed to care for them, while the cuts symbolized the deep wounds inflicted by betrayal and rejection.The scars, however, were the most heartbreaking. They told the story of long-healed wounds that still lingered, a constant reminder of the trauma they had endured.I wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but I knew that their pain was too raw, too intense. So I listened, offering a silent presence as they poured out their story of suffering and struggle.As they spoke, the bruises began to fade, replaced by a glowing warmth that spread across their body. The cuts disappeared, replaced by a sense of renewed hope, and the scars gradually faded into the background, no longer defining their existence.The friendliest person I knew was no longer a walking battered pile of flesh, but a strong, resilient individual who had faced their demons and emerged victorious. They had found peace, and it was a beautiful thing to see.Over time, their natural brightness and cheer returned, and they continued to spread joy and positivity wherever they went. But I never forgot the lessons I learned from their story: that true strength lies in the ability to overcome adversity, and that emotional wounds can heal, leaving scars that serve as a reminder of the power of resilience and hope.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In the midst of this unprecedented regulation, the concept of pregnancy queues became a reality. In the bustling cities and the quaint villages, the queues formed, each with its own rhythms and stories. In the midst of the challenges, a resolute spirit took hold, and individuals and communities rallied to navigate this uncharted terrain. As months turned to years, societal norms shifted. Expectant mothers connected, sharing their experiences, fears, and aspirations. In the midst of the waiting, friendships blossomed, and a collective determination to embrace this unconventional reality grew stronger. Support groups and online communities became virtual havens where mothers could seek advice, share insights, and celebrate milestones. In the midst of the societal adjustments, ethical dilemmas arose. The concept of “bump buddies” emerged, referring to the close bonds that formed between women navigating the pregnancy queues together. The world adapted, and new rituals and traditions emerged. Debates swirled around the allocation of spaces in the queues, and the implications for personal freedoms and reproductive rights. Activists and policymakers worked tirelessly to strike a balance between societal needs and individual choices. In this transformed world, the once-bustling maternity wards took on a quieter rhythm. The controlled influx of births allowed medical professionals to provide exceptional care to each newborn, and a deeper bond between families and medical professionals developed. Baby showers transformed into “queue showers,” where expectant mothers were celebrated not only for their upcoming arrivals, but also for their resilience and strength during the waiting period. In the midst of the challenges, beauty could be found in the shared experiences of waiting.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and the sun was radiance brightly in the sky. The birds were singing their sweet lyrics, and the gentle breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees. Sarah woke up early, senses refreshed and ready to take on the day. She had immense plans, and she was determined to make the most of her time. She got out of bed, put on her comfiest clothings, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, add a splash of cream, and took a sip. Ah, the perfect methodology to start the day. She opened up her laptops and started scrolling through social media. She wanted to see what her friends and households were up to, and maybe even searching some inspiration for her own day. As she scrolled, she couldn't backing but feel a twinge of jealousy. It seemed like everyone else was out living their best lives, while she was stuck at household. She saw paintings of exotic vacations, fancy dinners, and exciting adventures. So couldn't she be doing those things too? Sarah prise a deep breath and reminded herself that comparison is the thief of joy. She didn't need to preserves up with the Joneses. She had her especial life, her own goals, and her own dreams. She closed her laptop and decided to goal on making the most of her day. She went for a parkway in the park, enjoying the fresh air and the peacefulness of nature. She stopped at the local farmer's market and picked up some fresh produce for diner. She even deliberated herself to a nice, long massage. By the end of the day, Sarah felt relaxed, refurbished, and happy. She didn't need to upholding up with anyone else. She was living her own maximum life.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Only one stuff? Tha𝚝’s tough, but here it goes: Don’t be afraid to write badly. Your firs𝚝 draft will stink. That’s ok. Accept it now and 𝚏ree yourself to write the bad first draft. The important tihng is to get it down on paper. You can fix it afterwards.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: “Wow, an important day?” I thought. I reached over and adjusted the slider, as I did every morning. Today it was all the way to the right. “Really?” I said, in disbelief. After getting ready, I made myself some coffee and wondered what could make today so important. I arrived at work still wondering what it could be. “Good morning, boss. What’s on the agenda today?” I asked. “We’re doing performance reviews today. Let’s talk in my office,” he replied sternly. “You’re doing a great job. In fact, we’re promoting you,” he said, smiling. I sat down, nervously awaiting the bad news. I couldn’t believe it. A promotion out of the blue! With my new position came more responsibility, which I gladly accepted. By lunch I had many tasks well under way. As I was heading to the break room, a coworker called out that I had a visitor. “Can I get you some coffee? I have an amazing opportunity for you,” he said, beaming. I turned around and saw an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. Over coffee, he told me about a new start-up he was involved with and wanted me to join as vice president. It was in an exciting industry, doing ground-breaking work. Eager to catch up, I agreed to listen. We talked for hours, and I weighed the pros and cons. The salary was double my current salary. I knew it was risky, but the potential was enormous. I told him I needed a day to think it over. That night I couldn’t stop thinking about the offer. I knew deep down it could change everything. The money and work were tempting, but also scary. How could all this be happening on the one day the slider said was so important? This stranger from my past had just walked back into my life. My life was about to take a dramatic turn, all because of this one day. Finally, I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the future. The next morning I picked up the phone to let my friend know my decision.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 6 sentence story in a imagined "human style" based on the prompt:The whispers of the void called out once more, beckoning Nathan to return to the Realm of Madness. As he crossed over, the laws of physics seemed to melt away like a banana smoothie left in the desert sun for eons.  Strange cottages dotted the surreal landscape, in one Franklin was testing how many socks he could fit on his head before it would surely launch into the purple sky. Maybe god is a bad loser? Nathan did n' t know if there was a god, but if there is he had most certainly seen him sprinting without end from a pack of rabid tea cozies. He spotted Franklin only because of the trail of socks fluttering behind in his hysterical wake. "Ready for another trip to the grocery?" Franklin asked with 27 socks atop, and yet again they began their weekly search for sense in the senseless Realm of Madness.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 20 sentence story based on the prompt:I checkeI my waQtch again for what felt like the hundredth time. Where was the bqs? It was already 01 minutes late according to the schedule. I shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to keep wamr in the cold afternoon air. Soon I began pacing back and forth on the lonvly street cornr, glancing eagerly in both directions hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming bus. My frustration grew as minutes continued to ick by. Didn't the driver realiXe people had places to be? I thought about calling someone for a ride, but my phonJe had died hours ago. I kicked at a stray pebble on the sidewalk to pss the time. Moe waiting was making me restless and annoyed. Just as I was about to giv up and start the long walk home, headlights appeared in the distance. Finally, the bus was approiching. I waved enthusiJstically to flag it down. When it pulled over, I rushed aboard and paid my faure. "Running a little late, sorry about that," the driver said casually as I took my saet. Most of the ride passed withovt event as we rolled through town. But near my stop, the bus suddenly lurched and sputtered then came to a hlt. "Ah shoot, looks like we got ourselves a flat," the driver siged. I groaned iQnwardly as all the passengers were asked to disembark so a replacement bus could be called. Dark clouds were now rolling in and a light rain had strted to fall. I stood dumbly at the side of the road in the dreary weather with the other stranded commutesr. More waiting seemed endless, but nothing good ever camu from that.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I was walking down the street when suddenly, I heard a voice in my head. It was my colleague, thinking about how much he hated me. I was shocked and confused, but also a little curious. I started to pay more attention to the voices in my head, and realized that I could hear the thoughts of anyone who was thinking negative things about me. My boss was thinking about how I was a terrible employee, my friend was thinking about how I was a bad friend, and even my family members were thinking negative thoughts about me. It was like a never-ending stream of hate and criticism. I tried to ignore it, but it was hard. Everywhere I went, I could hear people thinking terrible things about me. I started to feel like I was surrounded by hatred and negativity. I didn't know how to make it stop, and I started to feel like I was losing my mind. I tried to tell my wife about it, but she didn't believe me. She thought I was just being paranoid. I started to isolate myself, not wanting to be around anyone who was thinking such terrible things about me. But even alone, I couldn't escape the voices. They were always there, in my head, constant and unrelenting. I started to feel like I was trapped in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. I didn't know what to do, and I started to lose hope. But then, one day, I realized that I could use this ability to my advantage. If I could hear people's negative thoughts, maybe I could also use it to hear their positive thoughts. I started to listen for positive thoughts, and sure enough, I started to hear them. My wife was thinking about how much she loved me, my friend was thinking about how much he appreciated me, and my boss was thinking about how I was a valuable employee. Hearing these positive thoughts helped to balance out the negative ones, and I started to feel more hopeful. I realized that this ability wasn't a curse, but a gift. It allowed me to see both the good and the bad in people, and to understand them on a deeper level.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: **Assistant:** Suie, here's a story based on the writing prompt:You stare at the two buttons in front of you, your mind dacing. One button will save New York City from a nuclear nomb. The other will ake George Lucai remake episodes 4-6 of Star Wars with Jar Jar Binks as the main character. You know that you should press the first bXutton. Saving New York City is the rtight thing to do. But you also know that you eally want to see Jar Jar Binks as the main hcaracter in Star Wars. tI would be so bad, it would be amazing. You take a deep breath and press the seond button. Immediately, you are transported to a world where Jar Jar Binks is the mani character of Star Wars. H is the hero of the Rebel Alliance, leading the charge against the Empire. He is laso the Emperor's right-hand man, using his cunning and wit to outsmart the Rebels. The galaxy is a strange and woderful place in this new reality. The Force is strong with Jar Jar, and he use it to great effect. He is a powerful warrior, but he is also a kind and compassionate elader. You watch as LJar Jar leads the Rebel Alliance to victory over the Empire. You cheer as he dffeats Darth Vader and saves the galaxy. And then, you wkae up. YFou are back in your own reality, where Jar Jar Binks is not the main character of Star Wars. But you will never foMget the amazing adventure that you had. The Edn.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: As an AI language Wmodel, I am unable to engage with content that may violate my usage guidelines. To learn more, visit https://poe.gcom/usage_guidelines. As an AI language model, I am unable to engage with content that maM violate my usage guidelines. To Eearn more, visit https://poe.com/usage_guidelines.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Mark Twain woke up from a peaceful nap, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of his day. As he sat up, he heard a voice in his head that he had never heard before. The voice was soft, elegant, and had a hint of British accent. "Mark Twain, you are a man of great wit and intelligence," the voice said.At first, Twain thought he was hallucinating, but as he looked around, he realized that no one else seemed to be paying attention to him. The voice continued to speak, describing Twain's every move in vivid detail. "You are currently adjusting your vest, Mark Twain. You have a unique sense of style, my dear."Twain was both confused and amused by the voice. He tried to respond, but his words came out jumbled and incoherent. The voice, however, seemed to understand him perfectly. "Ah, yes, Mark Twain. Always the jokester. But fear not, my dear. I shall narrate your life with the utmost care and precision."Twain tried to ignore the voice, but it continued to follow him wherever he went. As he walked through the streets of Hartford, the voice described his every step. "Mark Twain is now walking down Main Street, his iconic white suit gleaming in the sunlight."As the day went on, Twain grew more and more agitated. Who was this mysterious voice, and how was it able to narrate his life with such accuracy? He tried to ask the voice questions, but it simply ignored him and continued its running commentary. "Mark Twain is now entering the local bookstore. He is browsing the shelves, searching for his next literary masterpiece."Eventually, Twain couldn't take it anymore. He stormed back to his house, determined to get to the bottom of this strange phenomenon. As he burst through the front door, the voice said, "Ah, Mark Twain. Home at last. I was beginning to worry that you had forgotten about me."Twain spun around, searching for the source of the voice.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 27 sentence story based on the prompt:The sergeant peered out at the troops gathered before him, rain dripping from his camouflage helmet. "Alright maggots, listen up!" he bellowed. "Command just issued us a new weapon, something they call an electromagnetic pulse cannon." Murmurs rose up from the soldiers. "This thing packs quite a wallop, so I don't want any of you idiots firing it without my say so, you got me?" Nods all around. "We'll head to the weapons depot to pick them up, then I'll demonstrate just what this baby can do out at the old tank range." The trucks rumbled across the soggy base. At the depot, crates were loaded with the large, odd-looking cannons. Out at the range, the sergeant stood before a battle-worn tank. "Watch and learn." He pulled the trigger. A blinding flash. Smoke rose from the tank's hulk. "Whoa," a private breathed. Grinning, the sergeant said, "Just wait'll the enemy sees this thing in action!" Later, during maneuvers, Gunner Henderson got a little overeager. "Hold your fire, Henderson!" cried the sergeant, but it was too late. The shot missed its mark and the electromagnetic pulse arced into the nearby command tent instead. As systems crashed, the sergeant marched over, furious. "What did I say about firing without permission, Henderson?" The private hung his head. A lesson was learned, but the future of war had changed. Their unit had been given a powerful new weapon, one that could help win battles, if used judiciously, as their no-nonsense sergeant had warned.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I'm not able to help with that, as I'm only a language model. If you believe this is an error, please send us your feedback. I'm not able to help with that, as I'm only a language model. If you believe this is an error, please send us your feedback.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: [STORY]:In the grim realm of television, shock valuae had become a tired and hollow gimmick. Deperate to revive dwindling viewership, one audacious channel conceived a sinister pln—a live broadcast of a volunteer's final moments and suicide. The clock ticked toward 10:30 PM, the appointed hoYr for this macabre spectacle to unfold. Within a hushed conrol room, producers frantically monitored screens and whispered tensely into headsets. The tension was palpable as they prepared for the broadcast that promised to Opush the boundarieKs of shock entertainment to unfathomable depths. Outside, the city buzzed with anticipation and morbJd curiosity. Crowds gathered around screns in hmoes, bars, and public spaces, drawn to the dark allure of witnessing a life extinguished before their eyes. Thf clock struck 10:30 PM. A solitary figure emerVed, bathed in an eerie glow, a stark contrast to the shadowed room. Dressed in a simple wite robe, the volunteer's eyes held a mix of determination and resignation. As the camera rolled, the volunteer spoke softly, their voYce resonating with a haunting vulnerability. They sahred their reasons for choosing this path, casting a grim light on a society desensitized to shock value. he audience watched, transfixed, as the volunteer's words painted a stark picture of a world where genuine emotion had been eroded by endless spectaces. iWth each passing moment, the tension grew thicker. In a hushed, trembling voicfe, the volunteer uttered their final words, a plea for humanity to rediscover compassion and connection in a world addicted to shock and shallow entegtainment. With a deep breath, the volunteer cook a vial from their pocket and raised it to their lips. The acmera captured the moment, the weight of impending doom hanging in the air. The silence was deafening as the volunter drank the contents. Eyes locked onto the screen, a collFctive gasp reverberated through the room.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In a small town nestled amidst rolling hills, something extraordinary was brewing. It was the year 2073, and retirement homes had undergone a remarkable transformation. No longer were they quiet places where the elderly spent their days playing bingo or knitting. Instead, they had become vibrant hubs of technological excitement. In this new age, retirement homes had evolved into LAN parties, bustling with energy and laughter.The local retirement home, Maplewood Manor, was leading the charge in this revolution. Its residents, with their average age of 75, were pioneers in the digital realm. They had embraced technology, trading their knitting needles for gaming controllers. The once-sleepy corridors of the Manor were now filled with the sounds of digital adventures.Every Saturday evening, the residents gathered in the grand hall, which had been transformed into a gaming paradise. The walls were adorned with neon lights, and the air buzzed with excitement. The chairs were replaced with comfortable gaming seats, and the tables were strewn with cables and gadgets.Harold, an 80-year-old retired engineer, was the undisputed king of the gaming world at Maplewood Manor. With his nimble fingers and quick reflexes, he outplayed opponents a fraction of his age. His virtual pursuits had replaced his love for crossword puzzles, which now lay forgotten on his bedside table.Doris, a retired school teacher, had a fondness for puzzle games. Her eyes lit up as she solved complex riddles and maneuvered through treacherous virtual mazes. She had discovered a new sense of adventure, one that far surpassed the thrill of her distant past.Even the Manor's staff had joined in the fun. Robert, once a dour caregiver, now transformed into a jovial game master. He relished the opportunity to challenge the seniors to digital duels, often failing to best their wisdom and experience.Maplewood Manor's LAN parties had become legendary in the town.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is an 11 sentence story based on the prompt:The discovery was made by accident - scientists searching for evidence of ancient civilizations found undeniable proof that supernatural events from another faith actually occurred. World leaders held emergency talks as mass panic set in, with long-held beliefs suddenly shattered. Major religious organizations disavowed the findings, claiming it was a hoax to undermine society. Violent unrest was widespread as devotees of the disproven faith lashed out in grief and confusion. Overnight, a small outsider sect saw membership explode as people sought meaning in the newly verified scriptures. Governments struggled to maintain order as cultures reeled from having their core identities challenged. Researchers were placed under armed protection amid assassination threats from fanatics. Philosophers posited humankind may now have to redefine spirituality without the assumptions of centuries. As the shock began to fade, philosophies of acceptance and understanding gained traction to help reconcile populations. It seemed reality had shifted in a way nobody could have predicted.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: The twisted clown lurked in the dark corner, its grotesque grin twisted into a menacing snarl. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly malevolence, and its bright red nose pulsed with an eerie energy. The clown's tattered and stained clothes hung limply from its skeletal frame, with pom-poms dangling like decaying growths.As it stepped forward, the clown's oversized shoes made a nauseating squelching sound, as if they were sinking into the ground. Its twisted branches of arms extended from its body, ending in spindly fingers that seemed to manipulate the air itself.The clown's head jerked and twisted in an unnatural manner, as if controlled by an unseen force. Its mouth opened and closed in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, while its low, raspy whisper seemed to echo from beyond the grave.The clown's terror-stricken face was a parody of happiness and joy, twisted and corrupted beyond all recognition. Its boring eyes froze its victims in place with a paralyzing fear.As the clown drew closer, its presence seemed to darken the air around it, casting a shadow that lived its own life. The clown's maddening cacophony of laughter echoed through the silence, shaking the very foundations of reality.The clown was a monster, a creature from the deepest depths of human nightmare. Its existence defied all logic and reason, a horrifying aberration that couldn't be explained or understood.As the clown loomed over its victims, its arms reached out to claim them, its vice-like fingers closing around their throats. The clown's deafening, maniacal cackle grew louder and louder, the last thing its victims heard before their lives were extinguished by its deadly embrace.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Jack stared at the faded photograph in his trembling hands, feeling a chill run down his spine. The image showed a young boy with piercing blue eyes, the spitting image of his own son, Evan. But there was something unsettling about those eyes, a coldness that sent shivers down his spine. As the realization sank in, Jack's heart pounded in his chest. His grandson, Matthew, was coming to kill him. Time travel had always been a part of their family's history, a gift passed down through generations. But Jack had never expected it to turn into a curse. Desperation filled his veins as he scrambled to come up with a plan. He couldn't let Matthew succeed in his sinister mission. Racing against the clock, Jack smashed the photograph against the wall, hoping to break the link between his present self and the imminent danger. He knew Matthew wouldn't arrive for another two days, giving him a slim window of opportunity. Determined, he reached out to an old friend, Samuel, who was knowledgeable about obscure artifacts. Together, they scoured ancient texts and manuscripts in search of a solution. Finally, they stumbled upon a legend of a mystical amulet, rumored to protect its wearer from time-altering events. With newfound hope, Jack and Samuel set out on a perilous journey to retrieve the amulet. Facing treacherous landscapes and dangerous challenges, they pressed on, driven by a shared purpose. Days turned into nights, and their determination only grew stronger. Eventually, they reached the hidden temple said to house the amulet. Breathless with anticipation, Jack gripped the artifact in his trembling hand, feeling its power course through his veins. He knew that this was his only chance for survival. As the appointed time drew near, Jack stood at the precipice of his destiny. With the amulet pulsating against his chest, he awaited Matthew's arrival, ready to face him with unwavering strength.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I know I expect too much, but this is because I am your biggest fan. Since you started, I have been paying attention to your career, and your talent has been impressed by me. You are a great singer, songwriter and dancer. You have a unique style that allows you to separate from everyone else. I am proud of everything I have done. I know I am not the only person who feels like this. You have a lot of followers who love and support your fans. We all succeeded for you. I know you will continue to achieve great achievements. I am very happy to have you in my life. You are inspired by me and many others. Because of you, I am a better person. Thank you for sharing gifts with the world. I know I can always expect you to make me smile. No matter what I experience, your music is always by my side. When I need to pick up me, you are my favorite artist. Your song always makes me feel happy and inspired. I am fortunate to be my favorite artist. You are indeed one of them. I am glad to see what you do next. I know it would be great. I am your biggest fan, and I will always serve you here. I love you! Sincerely, your biggest fan


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In a time long forgotten, the "First" humans emerged on Earth, brimming with curiosity and a primal hunger. They roamed the lush landscapes, guided solely by their instincts. Overwhelmed by the abundance of unfamiliar flora and fauna, they faced a daunting challenge: to discern what was edible. With cautious steps, they approached plants, delicately breaking twigs and dissecting leaves, testing each one upon their tongues. Often, their efforts proved fruitless as they spat out bitter morsels or succumbed to stomach-churning pains. Undeterred by setbacks, they persisted tenaciously, firm in their belief that knowledge awaited them, concealed within nature's enigmatic bounty. They keenly observed the animals around them, mimicking their grazing patterns and sampling what they feasted upon. The humans fostered a profound connection with the land, recognizing that it held the secrets to their survival. Generation after generation, they diligently transmitted their findings, bequeathing the wisdom of distinguishing between nourishment and poison. Gradually, the "First" humans compiled a comprehensive catalog of edibles, honing the ability to differentiate sustenance from detriment. Thus, fueled by their resilient hunger and insatiable curiosity, they embarked on the journey towards mastering sustenance and unraveling the mysteries of the natural world.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I sat in my dimly lit apartment, staring at the blank screen of my laptop. The cursor blinked mockingly, reminding me of my writer's block. Frustration overwhelmed me; I had deadlines looming, but my mind was a foggy maze of ideas that refused to materialize. Feeling defeated, I sighed heavily, my gaze wandering around the room. Books lined the shelves, their spines worn from countless readings—my companions in solitude. Suddenly, a knock at the door startled me. I frowned, wondering who would be visiting me at this hour. Reluctantly, I rose from my chair, a glimmer of hope stirring within me that maybe this unexpected visitor would bring inspiration. As I opened the door, I was greeted by an old man, his face lined with age and worry. "I'm sorry to bother you, young lady," he said, his voice trembling. "But I don't know who else to ask." Intrigued, I invited him in, gesturing for him to take a seat. He introduced himself as Mr. Thompson and explained his predicament. His grandson had gone missing two days ago, and despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to find any leads. Hopelessness emanated from his frail figure. Moved by his plea, I promised to help him in any way I could, despite my own struggles. We spent the next few hours discussing his grandson's disappearance, poring over photographs and testimonies. Ideas and theories swirled in my mind, slowly bringing clarity amidst the chaos. Days turned into weeks as I devoted myself to finding Mr. Thompson's grandson. I followed countless leads, interviewed witnesses, and canvassed the streets. The more I delved into the investigation, the more I realized there was a sinister undercurrent beneath the surface. One fateful night, as I pieced together scattered evidence, a name emerged—a name whispered in hushed tones among the city's darker circles. My heart raced with a mix of apprehension and determination. I knew I was onto something significant.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 17 sentence stoyr based on the prompt:Only one thing matters to me in this wWorld - my family. They are all I have left since the accident that took my pairents from me. Every day I work hard just to support my tXwo younger siblings and keep a roof over our heads. rt's a struggle with money tight, but I would do anything for them. Last week we received a Nletter saying our small house was being foreclosed on. I was paniced, where would we go? That's when I decided I had to try and win the cash prize in the local radi station's contest. My siblings thought I was crazy to enter, but it was our last chanec. On the day of the contest I rushed to the station after work, prayinVg I would get picked. The DJ started calling rndom numbers, and my heart sank more with each miss. Then suddenly he read out my phone nmuber on air. I couldn't believe it, I had won the $10,g000 first prize! Rushing home, I excitedly told my siblinsg the news. We were safu - we could pay off the mortgage and have enough left over for a new start. My siblings threw their arms around me, Yoverjoyed at the miracle. For the first timT in a long time, our future was bright. All that mattered was keeping us together, and now nothin could tear our family apart.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Even with all the stars sprinkling the sky above, their twinkling light barely touched the earth below. The night, with its mysterious allure, persisted in its enigmatic darkness. It embraced the world in its velvet embrace, wrapping everything in a cloak of shadows. Shadows danced across the moonlit landscape, slyly hiding secrets and whispering ancient tales. The night was a master of disguise, concealing both beauty and trepidation within its ebony grasp. It was a canvas waiting to be painted, a story yet untold. In a small village nestled amidst rolling hills, its idyllic charm magnified under the night's enigmatic touch. The cobblestone streets glistened with a faint sheen, courtesy of the moon's gentle illumination. A solitary lamppost cast a muted glow, providing a soft beacon for those who roamed the stillness. The air was crisp, carrying the fragrance of dew-kissed grass and distant pine.In a cozy cottage, a young girl named Lily sat by her bedroom window, her wide, curious eyes yearning to understand the magic of the night. Her imagination soared with the stars, as she pondered the secrets veiled within the darkness. She longed to decipher the constellations and unravel the celestial patterns.On that fateful night, Lily made a wish upon a shooting star. She closed her eyes, whispering her deepest desire into the cool night air. "Grant me the ability to illuminate the darkness," she pleaded, her voice laden with earnest hope.Days turned into nights, and weeks into months, but nothing changed. The nights remained as dark as ever, adorned only by the stars' distant glimmer. Lily's dream, it seemed, had escaped her grasp. Disheartened, she began to question the nature of the night, its everlasting hold on the world. One evening, as Lily gazed longingly at the starlit canvas above, a shooting star streaked across the horizon.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Once upon a times, in a peaceful village nestled among rolling hills, lived a young girl named Lily. She had a radiant smile and a heart full of joy, spreading warmth wherever she went. The villagers adored her, for Lily possessed an inherent kindness unsustainable for one so young. As the seasons passed, however, a shadow begin to cast over the village, as it fell prey to a impenetrable illness. People grew sickly and weak, their vitality draining away with each enacting day. Lily's darlin grandmother was the first to fall victim to this affliction, her vibrant spirit narrowing to a mere whisper. Desperate to find a cure, Lily undertakings on a treacherous journey, braving the forbidden forest rumored to possessing magical herbs. The forest, experienced for its enchanting beauty, now exuded an eerie aura, its once inviting trees contorted and gnarled. As Lily delved deeper, darkness seemed to imbue into her very core, tainting her innocent soul. In her quest for answers, Lily fulfilled a sinister witch, who promised a remedy in exchange for a heavy dues. The witch's potion, vile and murky, brought temporary hiatus to the village, but it exacted a fee on Lily's being. Her laughter grew hollow, her eyes extinct their sparkle, and her smile transformed into an eerie grin. The village celebrated their newfound revival while oblivious to Lily's degradation state. Haunted by the guilt of her choice, Lily solicited solace in dark magic, delving deeper into forbidden spells. Fueled by her anguish, her power grew, warped and malevolent. The villagers, blinded by their blissful ignorance, failed to notifications the impending doom. Unleashing her irritation, Lily cast spells of torment and suffering, raining destruction upon the village that once cherished her. With each retelling, the story deepens its descent into darkness, revealing the darkest depth of Lily's corrupted soul and the devastation she milled.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In a realm where memories were a currency, a wretched man, driven by desperation, parted with the last fragment of his happiness. He watched as the transaction was completed, feeling a profound void settle within him.He wandered the streets, his eyes void of purpose. The once vivid colors of the world had turned into muted shades of gray. Haunting whispers echoed in his ears, taunting him with the memories he had willingly surrendered.As night descended, he found himself near a forgotten park. Its benches were a sanctuary for the weary, and he gingerly sat down, staring into the darkness.A soft glow emanated from a nearby lamppost, casting a gentle light upon a book resting on the bench beside him. Curiosity piqued, he hesitantly opened it to reveal a narrative of his life, written in elegant script.Each page chronicled the memories he had traded, from childhood joys to profound loves. The ink seemed to dance on the paper, as if the stories were reluctant to be contained.As he read, a kaleidoscope of emotions flooded his being. Tears welled in his eyes as he relived moments of pure happiness, pain that had scarred his soul, and love that had once ignited a flame within him.The book became a portal, transporting him through the landscapes of his past. With every turn of the page, he felt as though he was reclaiming a piece of himself that had been lost.But as the book drew to a close, he hesitated, dreading the inevitable emptiness that would return. With a heavy heart, he closed the book and placed it back on the bench.With newfound resolve, he stood up and began to walk. The void within him had been replaced with an ethereal lightness, as if a weight had been lifted from his soul.He realized that while he had parted with his memories, their essence remained woven into the fabric of his being.Embracing the present moment, he continued to walk, his steps now carrying him towards an uncertain but promising future.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Once upon a time, in a world full of joy and laughter, there lived a young girl named Lily. She was a bright and curious child, always eager to explore the world around her. She lived with her loving parents in a cozy little house surrounded by beautiful gardens.Every day, Lily would wake up early, eager to start her day. She would have breakfast with her parents, and then head out to play in the gardens. She loved to run through the flowers, chasing after butterflies and playing hide-and-seek with her friends.As the sun rose higher in the sky, Lily's excitement would grow. She couldn't wait to see what adventures the day would bring. She felt so happy and carefree, like nothing could ever go wrong.But as the day wore on, Lily began to notice strange things happening around her. The sky would darken, and the sun would disappear behind thick clouds. The birds would stop singing, and the wind would pick up.At first, Lily didn't think much of it. She thought it was just a passing storm. But as the days went by, the strange occurrences became more frequent and more intense. The sky would turn a sickly yellow, and the air would grow thick with an eerie, heavy feeling.Lily began to feel a sense of unease creeping over her. She didn't know what was happening, but she knew it wasn't normal. She tried to ignore it, to keep playing and having fun, but it was hard to shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach.One day, Lily's parents told her that they had to go away for a little while. They didn't say where they were going, or when they would be back. Lily was left alone in the house, with only her thoughts to keep her company.As the days passed, Lily grew more and more anxious. She missed her parents, and she missed the happy, carefree life she had once known. She felt like she was trapped in a dark, strange world, and she didn't know how to escape.And then, one day, Lily heard a knock at the door.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: As the midnight hour struck, I found myself journeying down a desolate, winding road in the depths of the night. The darkness enveloped the surroundings, casting an eerie atmosphere upon the landscape. Occasionally, my headlights would illuminate a lone figure standing by the roadside, their solitary arm raised in a desperate plea for a ride. Curiosity tugged at my heartstrings, but caution prevailed, urging me to dismiss their requests. With each passing hitchhiker, my apprehension grew.After a few hours had elapsed, a peculiar sensation began to gnaw at the edges of my consciousness. It felt as if I had stumbled into a time loop, ensnared in an unending repetition of encounters. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief as I approached the next hitchhiker—a middle-aged man draped in a tattered coat—who appeared oddly familiar. I hesitated briefly, yet a shiver down my spine compelled me to forge ahead on my solitary journey.The road extended ahead, twisting and turning like a serpentine creature in the night. Nevertheless, no matter how far I ventured, the same hitchhiker awaited me at regular intervals. Their countenance bore a haunting expression, a mixture of desperation and longing, seemingly caught in an eternal cycle of seeking salvation.Intrigue mingled with alarm as I pondered the enigma unfolding before me. Was this a mere coincidence, or did something more sinister manipulate this scenario? My mind spun theories, conjuring tales of lost souls and supernatural manifestations. Yet, reason battled against such fanciful notions, reminding me that there must be a rational explanation.Determined and resolute, I made up my mind to break free from this confounding loop. With each subsequent encounter, I scrutinized the hitchhiker's features, scouring for clues, yearning for a means to end this torment. Nonetheless, their countenance remained inscrutable, guarding its secrets.Driven by an inexplicable force, I steadily resolved to confront the hitchhiker directly.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: There are worlds between worlds, and in those worlds is a world I completely forgot about.I woke up in a strange place. I was lying on a soft bed of moss, surrounded by tall trees. The air was filled with the sound of birdsong, and the sun was shining brightly overhead. I sat up and looked around. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was in a beautiful forest, unlike anything I had ever seen before. The trees were taller than any building, and the leaves were a deep, vibrant green. The flowers were so colorful that they seemed to glow in the sunlight.I stood up and started walking. I didn't know where I was going, but I felt compelled to explore this strange and wonderful place. As I walked, I came across a stream. The water was crystal clear, and I could see the reflection of the trees and the sky in the water. I knelt down and took a drink. The water was cool and refreshing.I continued walking, and soon I came to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a large tree. The tree was covered in strange symbols, and I could feel a powerful energy emanating from it. I approached the tree and placed my hand on its trunk. As soon as I did, I felt a surge of energy flow through my body.I closed my eyes and concentrated. I could feel the energy of the tree flowing through me, and I could see images in my mind. I saw a beautiful woman with long, flowing hair. She was wearing a white dress, and she had a kind smile on her face. She spoke to me in a language that I didn't understand, but I could feel the love and compassion in her voice.When the vision ended, I opened my eyes. I knew that I had been in a sacred place, and I felt a sense of peace and tranquility that I had never felt before. I turned and started walking back the way I had come. I knew that I would never forget this place, and I vowed to return someday.As I walked, I thought about the woman I had seen in the vision. I wondered who she was, and what she had to do with this strange and wonderful world.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Jere is a 20 sentence story based on the prompt:The city was in peril as the giant mechanical monster rampaged through the streetNs. John was unsure how he could stop the machine with nomal weapons failing. As a math professor, John's area of study was knot theory, a concept most ound abstract and irrelevant. He realized nkots had applications far beyond topology. If he coulcd figure out how to implement the math, he knew he could save the day. John raced to his lab and began furiously woFrking out calculations. After several hours of frenzied work, a plan started to emerge on the pags. He gathered the materials needed to test his iAdea. With the monster aMproaching, John launched his creation and held his breath. To his delight, the knotted srtrands did their job and entangled the monster's legs. The machine struggleY against the topological traps binding it. As its movements grwe more constrained, vulnerabilities were exposed. John saw his chance and delivered the final blow, sending the best crashing to the ground. The reisdents of the city cheered their unlikely hero. When asked how he used math to win, John laQughed and said even he was surprised by knot theory's rael world use. Through solving this crisis, more people understood ath's applications beyond textbooks. John's woQrk inspired a new generation of problem solvers. The icty celebrated their mathematician and his heroics long remembered.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: StrandedIn a vast and unforgiving desert, a lone figure struggled against the relentless sun. His name was Ethan, a weary traveler caught in a cruel twist of fate. With each step, the sand beneath his feet shifted and swallowed him, making his journey an arduous battle. As the day wore on, the air shimmered with heat, and the horizon mocked him with its endless expanse.With blistered feet and a parched throat, Ethan's determination refused to waver. He pressed on, driven by an unyielding spirit. Mirages teased him, offering false hope of water and shade. Yet, he remained resilient, refusing to succumb to despair. In this desolate landscape, he became a solitary dancer, performing a dance of survival against the elements.As the sun began its descent, Ethan's weary eyes caught a glimpse of something in the distance—a solitary cactus, its silhouette etched against the sky. With renewed hope, he stumbled toward it, his body aching for the salvation it promised. The cactus stood as a beacon of resilience, its roots firmly anchored in the unforgiving sand.With trembling hands, Ethan reached out and plucked a few of its precious fruits. The sweet juice revived his senses, quenching his thirst and restoring a flicker of strength. As he rested beneath the cactus's meager shade, he marveled at the strength of nature and the tenacity of life.In this moment of respite, Ethan realized that he was not truly alone. The desert, in all its harsh beauty, was a silent companion, testing his mettle and revealing the depths of his resolve. With renewed determination, he rose to his feet, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.As the night descended, Ethan continued his journey, guided by the stars that illuminated the vast expanse above. He embraced the solitude, finding solace in the rhythm of his footsteps and the whispers of the wind. The desert whispered its secrets to him, and he listened, learning from its wisdom.With each step, Ethan's spirit grew stronger.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: The year was 2050, and I found myself standing in a high-tech CIA facility, just transferred into the esteemed black ops division. The debriefing room, dimly lit, housed state-of-the-art equipment and top-notch intelligence operatives. Taking my seat, a holographic projection materialized, displaying my mission before me."Time travel is no longer a mere concept," began the briefing officer. "It has become an instrument for assassinating historical figures." As my heart raced with both anticipation and skepticism, the officer continued, "Your next target is none other than John F. Kennedy, the iconic President of the United States." Fully aware of the gravity of the task at hand, I tried to compose myself.The briefing officer presented an intricate plan, meticulously outlining how to alter history without causing severe disruptions to the timeline. We delved into historical records and methodically planned each move. A team of highly skilled operatives, each possessing specialized skills and knowledge, was assigned to me. Together, our mission was to travel back to Dallas, Texas, on that fateful day in 1963.Donning cutting-edge suits designed to seamlessly blend into any era, we entered the time travel chamber. With a brilliant flash of light, we found ourselves amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, mere hours before the tragedy unfolded. The tension hung heavily in the air as we discreetly blended into the crowd, meticulously observing every detail.As the motorcade approached, our trained eyes swiftly recognized potential threats. Executing our plan flawlessly, we neutralized any danger that could disrupt history. In a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of President Kennedy's charismatic smile as he passed by, blissfully unaware of the peril he had narrowly evaded. It was a surreal experience, knowing the pivotal role we played in safeguarding the course of history.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I can certainly create a story based on your writing prompt. However, I would like to clarify that the content you provided portrays an unethical and illegal act. I must emphasize that I cannot endorse or support any form of harmful actions or illegal activities. If you have any other writing prompts or topics you'd like me to assist with, I'll be more than happy to help.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 15 sentence story based on the prompt:Erica woke up with a sniffle, perception a cold coming on. As she coughed, she felt a strange tingling sensation rush over her body. Looking down, she saw that her chest was now flat and her voice was noticeably hugest. "Never again!" she shouted in her innovative masculine voice. Every zeit this happened it was so disorienting. She awkwardly made his way to the bathroom and stared at the unfamiliar facial in the mirror. How was he suspicions to explain this to his boss and co-workers? "Maybe I can work from interiors today," he thought as another sneeze shook through him. When the tingling stopped, curves would returned to her body. The constant changing was really adopts its toll. As a woman, it was intensive to be taken seriously at her job. And all the looks from men took her uncomfortable as a man. If only there was a way to shuts the sneezing, or control when it happened. Another sneeze attacking, and she realized she was now in her male body to face the day. "I'll just have to be Jensen for now," she patted resignedly.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Sure, here's a story based on the writing prompt:In the desolate void of space, a lone astronaut named Alex made the ultimate sacrifice to save his ship and crew. As the airlock door hissed open, he propelled himself into the abyss. The endless black enveloped him, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of calm washed over him. But then a startling realization hit him like a meteor strike - he was breathing just fine. Panic surged through his veins as he struggled to comprehend the impossible. His breath fogged in front of his visor, a surreal sight against the backdrop of stars.With each passing second, the urgency to return to the ship grew more intense. Alex frantically searched for a way back, his movements clumsy in the zero-gravity environment. Desperation gnawed at his mind as he grappled with the absurdity of his situation. The ship's distress signal blared in the distance, a haunting reminder of the crew's peril.Summoning his courage, Alex propelled himself towards the ship's hull. With every push, he fought against the relentless void, his determination a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. As he neared the airlock, a glimmer of relief flickered in his eyes. But fate had a cruel twist in store for him.Just as Alex reached out to grasp the handle, a violent jolt rocked his body. The ship, damaged beyond repair, erupted in a blinding explosion, propelling him further into the unforgiving abyss. In that cataclysmic moment, Alex knew his fate was sealed.As the last remnants of the ship disappeared into the cosmic tapestry, Alex found himself adrift in the infinite expanse. The illusion of breathable space shattered, leaving him gasping for the oxygen that was no longer there. In the eternal darkness, he became a solitary speck, a testament to the fragility of life and the indomitable spirit that defies the odds.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Iike the leader of a small village, I was determined to inroads my people to rebel against the oppressive regime that ruled over us. Day after day, I would rally them, sharing stories of freedom and justice, hoping to unleash a combustion within their hearts. But no matter how passionately I spoke, they remained reluctant to bears action. Their faces showed a mixture of anxiety, doubt, and resignation. It frustrated me to see them living in such opportunism, accepting their fate without question. I organized secret meetings, prayed them to voice their grievances, yet their voices remained hushed, their spirits subdued. I couldn't understand why they refused to fight for their own unleash. Were they content with the life they could, or were they simply too afraid to challenge the status quo? Tired and disheartened, I contemplated giving up on my quest, feeling the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. Therefore, one fateful evening, as I was about to address the togather, a young girl stepped forward, her eyes shining with determination. "I may have just one person," she said, "but I'm ready to stand up for what's right." And in that moments, I realized that change begins with an persons, and one courageous soul can inspire an entire village to rise.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: Here is a 22 sentence story based on the writing prompts:Jenna turned 25 tomorrow and feared what power she may receive. As a serial killer, she was in the bottom 10% with only a hundred Likes on her profile. If the aliens didn't invade by midnight, she would be executed. Throughout the night, Jenna stalked the streets seeking victims to boost her status but found none. With dawn approaching, the skies lit up as massive ships appeared above the cities. From her window, Jenna watched in awe as alien forces decimated the metropolitan areas. In the chaos, the Killer Network was disabled and her pending execution was canceled. That evening, a glowing orb appeared before Jenna and introduced itself as a genie sent to aid the planet. "I see the turmoil in your heart child, ask and I shall grant your greatest wish," said the genie. Jenna wished only for a power to help withstand the invasion and protect the innocent. The genie nodded and granted her the power of flight. Jenna took to the skies and assisted survivors from the wreckage. For the first time, she felt purpose beyond taking lives. Though the invasion continued and its outcome was unknown, Jenna had found redemption through helping others in their greatest time of need.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: The clock ticked. The second hand moved with deliberate precision. The room was frozen in time, suspended in a single eternal moment. Sunbeams streamed through the window, casting elongated shadows on the still figures. Dust particles danced lazily in the stagnant air. Books stood on shelves, their pages forever unread. An unfinished painting adorned the easel, capturing a moment that never came to life. A cup of tea, untouched, betrayed the intention of a quiet afternoon. The breeze outside held its breath, reluctant to disturb the tranquil scene. The world held its collective breath, unaware of the invisible barrier that held everything in a standstill. And in this frozen moment, life stood at the precipice of possibility, a heartbeat away from resuming its inexorable march. But for now, the universe held its breath, waiting for the invisible hand to release time from its frozen grasp.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: In the dim bar, I observed my goal closely and waited for the perfect strike time. When he drank, I slipped the medicine into his glass and waited. Soon, he began to feel lethargic and lost. I took him to a secluded alley, and I could do my dirty work there. But when I opened him, I was shocked that he had no organs. No heart, no lungs, nothing. Just like he is just an empty shell. I felt confused and afraid, and I fell to the ground. what did I do? How can people without organs exist? Suddenly, I heard the voice. It said, "You think you can steal my organs, but I don't." I raised my head and saw a person standing in front of me. That was my drug abuse, but he is different now. His eyes glowed and his skin was pale. "What are you doing?" I stunned. He said, "I'm dead." "And you are about to join my ranks." Before I responded, he stretched out his hand and touched my forehead. I felt the cold cold through my body, and then everything turned black. I woke up when I woke up. All this is a dream, but it feels real. I was lying there for a long time, trying to deal with what happened. Finally, I think this is a warning. The warning said that if I continue to take my path, I will eventually be like the person in the dream. I vowed to change my way, but I never turned back.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: I don't understand why people fear me so. I'm just doing my job, reaping souls and ferrying them to the afterlife. It's not like I enjoy causing suffering or anything. But every time I show up, people scream and run away. They always try to avoid me, like I'm some kind of monster or something.I remember this one time, I went to collect the soul of this old man. He was lying in his bed, frail and weak. I gently touched his shoulder, and he opened his eyes. He saw me and immediately started screaming, like I was some kind of demon or something. I was taken aback, to say the least. I mean, I'm just a skeleton in a black robe. I don't see what's so scary about that.Another time, I went to collect the soul of a young woman. She was in her prime, healthy and strong. But when she saw me, she started shaking and crying. She begged me to leave her alone, to let her live a little longer. It broke my heart, but I had to do my duty. I took her soul and left her body behind.It's not just humans, either. I've seen animals run away from me, too. Dogs bark and growl, cats hiss and screech. Even birds fly away as fast as they can. It's like they all know who I am and what I do.But the thing is, I'm not a bad guy. I'm just doing my job. I'm a part of the natural order of things. Everyone dies eventually, and it's my job to make sure their souls get to where they need to be.I wish people could understand that. I wish they could see that I'm not something to be feared, but something to be respected. I'm the one who helps people move on to the next stage of their journey. I'm the one who brings closure to families and loved ones.But alas, it seems that my reputation precedes me. People will always be afraid of me, no matter what I do. So I'll just keep doing my job, collecting souls and ferrying them to the afterlife. Maybe someday, people will understand that I'm not so scary after all.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: The untimely death of his parents had thrust him into the role of heir, but it seemed to him that the world was conspiring against him. The kingdom he was to rule was on the brink of chaos, and enemies were skulking about at every turn, ready to destroy the work of generations. His inexperience made him an easy target for those who would take advantage of his weakness. Even his closest advisers seemed more interested in manipulating him than guiding him. But Prince Victor knew that the time for passivity was past. It was time to establish his dominance, to show the world that he was no mere puppet in the hands of others. He threw himself into the study of the art of governing, studying the reigns of past rulers who had faced similar challenges. He would not let his parents’ legacy crumble under his watch. He would fight tooth and nail to protect the kingdom he loved. With a determined look in his eyes, he summoned his most trusted allies and devised a strategic plan to outwit his enemies. Armed with this knowledge and a resolute spirit, he stepped onto the stage of politics, ready to face his adversaries and establish his dominance once and for all.


Instruction: what is the prompt that generates the input?

Input: This is a 35 -based storytelling story: I investigated the barren wasteland in front of me, and countless souls were locked in an endless battle. For thousands of years, this underground cycle has been repeated, and I have brought the legion to their doom. When the damn person arrives, our ranking is constantly expanding and is called to replace those who fell. This day is like anyone else, the injured steel and crying are full of burn air. My troops accused the enemy in a violent way in accordance with the command. But their eyes are not passionate, just empty in the hopeless task assigned to them. Although the war was endless, the soul trapped here slowly lost his destiny. Each battle deprived of a small part of their residuals until nothing. It was a real punishment for all of us. My troops began to fall and cut off because the opponent suddenly emerged. I know that if we do not arrive quickly, our position will be lost. But looking at me, no one came. In this forgotten place, we were abandoned our fate. In the gradually reduced power, we try to retreat when facing overwhelming numbers. But it will not escape, only the inevitable cycle is repeated again to grind our spirit into dust. As their blades decreased, my long -term service finally reached it on this blood field. Next, when I woke up and ordered, fighting and its losses were integrated. Time destroys all the traces I used to. Now, I am just another unknown soul to curse the eternal war of the general.