This is going to be the year of the computer. It started last year, but this year, a new player has entered the room… You’ll note that we’ve got a prompt from ChatGPT below, which could be very interesting… Shall we play with a prompt from the AI next week, instead of doing the random assignment challenge?
| Prompter | Prompt | Promptee |
| AC Young | Once more down the Arven, dear friends, once more. | Leigh Kimmel |
| Padre | Since it’s Valentines Day: “You know what I love about you?” | Zoe |
| David Wyman | It was just a fish. Really. I mean, what else COULD it be? | John Wyman |
| Becky Jones | I said “vermouth” not “the truth”! | AC Young |
| Zoe | Little did he know, the weekly writing prompts that he thought of as “silly” were magical, and came to life every night. | David Wyman |
| John Wyman | The cold air comes rushing in through the hole when you suddenly think: Where did that hole come from? | Fiona Grey |
| Fiona Grey | Something in the walls wanted out. | Padre |
| Leigh Kimmel | “UHF” by Weird Al Yankovic https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUi926ses94 | Cedar Sanderson |
| nother Mike | Seeing one of the masters actually helping was a shock | nother Mike |
| Cedar Sanderson | Apologize to the judge, or else! | Becky Jones |
And here you have a prompt by no-one, answerable by human or AI. What makes creativity come to life, is it the human spark, or the response of the reader or the viewer?
| ChatGPT | “Imagine a world where dreams can physically affect reality. One night, you have a vivid dream that changes the course of your life forever. Describe the dream, its impact on you, and how you deal with the consequences.” |
And of course, spare prompts! Pick one, add one on to another prompt, do as you will.
| Spare | It was only a fantasy war, but blood had spilt by the end of the day regardless. |
| Spare | Just let it ramble… |
| Spare | “But.. that’s insanely dangerous!” “And the safe alternative is…? Do it and we PROBABLY die. Don’t do it, we CERTAINLY die. Got a better idea? All ears! Because, DAMN, I want a WE-DON’T-DIE plan!” |
| Spare | The cellphone in the trashbarrel is ringing… |
| Spare | Cleaning cages for the vet was a fun job, until you realized the animals were talking to you. |
No wordcounts, no judgement, just productive forward momentum. See you next week!
Visual Prompt!
More Odds Than Ends 
I like the idea of playing with a ChatGPT prompt. Could be interesting.
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Since I finally got back in just now, I tossed ChatGPT the prompt it gave us. And the response was…
In this world, where dreams can physically affect reality, I had a dream that was so vivid and real, it changed the course of my life forever. In the dream, I was suddenly transported to a fantastical world filled with magic and wonder. I was gifted with magical powers, and I used them to help others and make the world a better place. The experience was so real and fulfilling, that when I woke up, I felt a strong desire to continue using my powers to make a difference in the real world.
At first, I thought it was just a passing fancy, but as the days went by, I began to realize that the dream had indeed physically altered reality. My powers were real, and I was able to use them to help people and make a positive impact on the world. However, this newfound power came with its own set of challenges. People started to take notice of me and my abilities, and some even began to fear me.
I struggled with how to handle the consequences of my dream and my newfound powers. On one hand, I was thrilled to be able to make a positive difference in the world, but on the other hand, I was overwhelmed by the responsibility that came with it. I also feared that my powers would eventually attract the wrong kind of attention, and that I would be unable to protect myself or those I care about.
Eventually, I came to the realization that I needed to be proactive in how I used my powers. I needed to find a way to use them for good, but also to keep them hidden from those who might want to use them for evil. I sought out others who were gifted with similar powers, and together, we formed a secret society dedicated to using our powers for good.
The dream changed my life forever, but I learned to embrace it and use it to make a positive impact on the world. I will always remember the vivid dream that changed my life and the lessons it taught me about responsibility, power, and the importance of using our gifts for good.
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And continuing the exchange…
Me: Very nice! Although you might add some more detailed description of the actions and reactions. So, do you have another writing prompt?
ChatGPT: Sure! How about this one:
You are a scientist working on a top-secret project to develop a time machine. One day, you accidentally activate the machine and find yourself transported back in time to the 1920s. Describe your experiences adjusting to life in the past, your attempts to get back to the present day, and the consequences of your actions while you are there.
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For this week’s prompt Becky Jones supplied: I said “vermouth” not “the truth”!
—
I had had a terrible day. My team had been called in on a quadruple murder yesterday. Today we were in the depths of the investigation, and had got nowhere.
I walked into the pub, and made my way to the bar. As I’d hoped Georgio was on duty. He was an inveterate talker and very funny.
I sat down on the end stool, and when Georgio came over ordered “Vermouth.”
I don’t know why I first ordered it. I’d wandered into the bar one evening after work, with no brain left, and just picked a drink off the list at random. It hadn’t tasted bad – it tasted reasonably nice – so I just ordered it now out of habit.
Georgio must have noticed how bad my day had been for he came over and started talking.
“The truth? Do you want the tale of the unicorn horn?”
I shook my head. That was probably someone cutting a narwhal tusk down to size and flogging it to a fool.
“Perhaps the tale of the stolen dragon’s egg?”
I shook my head again. Though that was a great tale. He’d told it to me before, and it was hilarious, but I just wasn’t in the mood.
“How about the tale of the light-blue paint in Oxford?”
I shook my head once more. A centuries-old student prank wasn’t really what I wanted to hear about – even though it had grown in the telling to exaggerate the sneakiness of the perpetrators.
My mood was even worse than it normally was. Even looking forwards to the humorous content of a story told by a great raconteur wasn’t doing it for me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I said vermouth, not the truth.”
Georgio poured me a small glass of neat vermouth, and placed it in front of me. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
I grabbed the glass, and tossed it back in one go.
“Not really. It was one of the worst quadruples I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a few. Another, please.”
Georgio got me another glass. I tossed it back as well.
“I haven’t seen you looking as bad as this in a while.”
I sighed. “It’s getting really bad. I’ve asked to be transferred to another team, somewhere where I don’t have to deal with murders. Hopefully this will be my last case. Hopefully.”
Georgio sat down. “Where will you be going?”
“Anywhere will do. Anywhere with no murders. I don’t care anymore.”
“Will you still frequent this establishment?”
“I don’t know. It depends on which station I’m based out of.”
“If this is your last evening here, there’s one tale you have to hear.”
Georgio set about telling me the tale of the publican who got lost in his own pub. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but it didn’t matter for it was his best story yet. By the time I finally headed home I was feeling a lot better.
I still had the case to not look forwards to tomorrow, but tonight was hopefully enough to ensure that I’d survive it.
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Ooo, and in the back of the book, you can include tales from the pub, and tell us each of the stories! Good publican (is that the right word? The barkeeper, Georgio?)
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I really want to know about the tale of the light-blue paint in Oxford!
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Well done.
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That rascally ‘nother Mike postulated…
Seeing one of the masters actually helping was a shock
[Now, that’s where things get dicey…]
Isao-kun was terrified. First they sent him to work for the foreign devils, the gaijin, with their strange clothes and ways. And now, one of the masters, one of those terrifying pale oni, told him to help set the table for the masters. And handed him a handful of strange and scary weapons!
He looked at the table. So high? How would the strange gaijin eat, sitting on the floor… oh, they had those tall stools. So they wouldn’t need cushions on the floor?
And there were ten places, with odd flat trays sitting at them. So… he looked at the weapons in his hands. Long knives, those made sense. And strange sticks with poking tips, like a rake, but… and flat spoons. But no hashi? No chopsticks to pick up their food? Well, maybe they… what if he… he looked at the master, but he was already busy with something else in the kitchen. And he knew better than to interrupt a master. He still ached when he thought of the time he did that to one of the Japanese masters. So maybe…
He quickly set the weapons out near the odd flat trays. Two by two… and he had more than enough! So he smiled, and trotted back to the kitchen door.
He held up the extras. He had kept the spoons. The master frowned at him.
“What’s this? Didn’t I count right?”
Then the master looked at the table. Then he laughed, and took the spoons in his hand. He grabbed Isao-kun’s hand, and walked him over to the first place. He looked at the two knives laying straight across underneath the tray, and chuckled again.
“Well, boy, you tried. But let me explain.”
He reached across the table and grabbed one of the pointed sticks from there. Then he laid the spoons down on the table. He held the pointed stick in front of Isao-kun.
“This is a fork. We use it to stick into food and pick it up. And we put one on the left side of each plate.”
He laid the pointed stick, the fork, beside the plate. The points all aimed across the table.
Then he picked up one of the knives.
“This is a knife. Cut things with it, of course. Put it one the other side, the right side, beside the plate.”
He set that one down beside the plate. The tip pointed across the table again. He picked up a spoon from the pile.
“Now, this is a spoon. Put one beside the knife.”
He laid it down there, and took the extra knife away. Then he looked at Isao-kun, and he smiled.
“There you go. That’s what a proper place setting looks like. Now, do you think you can do the rest?”
Isao-kun felt his jaw drop. Seeing one of the masters actually helping was such a shock. No punishment, no backhand to his head, just showing him what needed to be done? No anger?
After a moment, he bowed, and murmured, “Yes, master.”
The strange devil chuckled, and patted him gently on his head.
“Well, then, please set the rest of the places. Fork, knife, and spoon at each place, now!”
And he walked back to the kitchen.
Isao-kun watched him walk away, then smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Even if they were foreign devils!
[hum, that’s kind of interesting. Morning daydream, but I think I like it…]
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Interesting clash of cultures.
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Thanks. I’ve actually been on the other end of this one, trying to set the places and finding out that the hashi (chopsticks) go horizontal along the edge of the table, with the points to the left. Not vertical beside the plate, and not with the points to the right. But I’ve got it now!
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Wait till they see a spork!
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From Zoe: Little did he know, the weekly writing prompts that he thought of as “silly” were magical, and came to life every night.
—–
Laying down, trying to go to sleep, he felt horrible. Thinking back to how the evening ended, he mentally kicked himself for not being supportive of his daughter. He had meant his comment to be funny.
“Why do you waste your time with those writing prompts? They’re too silly for you…”
He hadn’t expected her to take it so seriously and when she forcefully responded that they were NOT silly and “what did he know, he’s just an old man”, he reacted poorly. Shouting at her to be respectful and sending her to bed early.
“Not my finest hour,” he thought, trying to will himself into drifting off to sleep. But sleep didn’t come and he tossed and turned.
— CRASH! — came loudly from the hallway that ended at his daughter’s room.
He jumped up, the disorientation of his half-asleep state draining from him as adrenaline dumped into his system, and bounded down the hall. Flinging open the door to his daughter’s room, he stopped in his tracks as his brain tried to process the scene in front of him.
His eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of an empty bed, glass shards from a broken window, and what couldn’t actually be a unicorn but certainly looked like one right outside the window. His daughter was climbing out the broken window and onto the back of the unicorn.
“Wait!” he attempted to shout though all that came out was a spluttering “Blargh!”
His daughter glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
“See Daddy? I told you they were magical! I’ll be back before morning.”
Finally situated in the saddle, she blew him a kiss as the unicorn turned and galloped out of sight.
A gust of wind blew through the broken window, stirring the pages on her nightstand, the words at the top barely legible: “Week 7 of Odd Prompts: 2023 Edition”
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Hi, ho, ride ‘em, unicorns! Very nice!
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[…] a brief escape? Go on over to More Odds Than Ends and check out the prompt responses for a quick, and fun, read. Apologize to the judge, or else! was […]
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Oh, the trials and tribulations of a principal in a school for shifters! Sounds like fun! More, please?
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Very good. There seems to be a solid foundation for a series of stories, perhaps.
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Agreed – would definitely read a book based in that world!
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[…] MOTE […]
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Oh, romance is in the air, and space, and… very nice! Now we need the rest of the story of these star-crossed lovers, and the cat, too!
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And now mine’s finally up on my LiveJournal at https://starshipcat.livejournal.com/1290500.html. I’d wanted to carry it a little further, to Elaine’s first experience of clairvoyance, but the time was getting later than I wanted to stay up.
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And it seemed fair to ask ChatGPT to take one of the spares… so…
Me: Hi. Can you write a short story or flash fiction from the writing prompt “Cleaning cages for the vet was a fun job, until you realized the animals were talking to you.”?
ChatGPT: Cleaning cages for the vet was a fun job, until you realized the animals were talking to you. At first, you thought you were hearing things. Maybe the stress of the job was getting to you. But then, the hamster in the corner of the room spoke up.
“Hey, can you clean my wheel while you’re at it?”
You froze, staring at the tiny creature in disbelief. It spoke again, its voice clear and unmistakable.
“I said, can you clean my wheel? It’s filthy.”
You nodded dumbly, reaching into the cage to do as it asked. As you worked, the hamster chatted with you, telling you about its life in the pet store before being sold to its current owner. It was a strange and surreal experience, but also oddly comforting.
Over time, you discovered that all the animals in the vet’s office could talk. They had unique personalities and stories to tell, and you found yourself looking forward to your daily cleaning duties just so you could chat with them.
But as time went on, you began to notice something disturbing. The animals were not always happy with their treatment. They spoke of neglect and mistreatment by their owners, and shared horror stories of other pets that had come through the office.
You couldn’t ignore their cries for help. You began to gather evidence of abuse and neglect, and report it to the authorities. It was a difficult and often heartbreaking task, but you knew you were doing the right thing.
As you walked out of the vet’s office on your final day, you couldn’t help but smile at the memories of your time with the animals. They had changed your life in unexpected ways, and you knew that you had changed theirs as well.
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Hi, my prompt was: “It was just a fish. Really. I mean, what else COULD it be?” Here’s what I came up with:
The man frowned at the great lake in front of him. He had had some bad experiences, but this had been one of the worst weeks he and the other Lakefishers had seen for decades. It seemed as if all the fish had gone. No one knew why. No one knew how. Yet here they were, lining the lake in hopes of catching one of the few stray fish that had been left behind.
The edge of the lake was now mostly devoid of Lakefishers, most of them having gone home with only a meager catch. Now, only the most devoted Lakefishers remained. One by one, the man watched the others pack up their gear and head home. He stayed until no one remained but him, for he was a determined man with only a sad little home to return to.
It was late, and his eyes were beginning to sag, so the man decided to cast his line one final time before leaving. After half an hour with no success, the man began to reel in his line. Strangely, however, the line would not budge. Confused, the man looked closely at the water and saw an enormous shadow beneath the surface. Shocked that he had finally caught something, he pulled with all his might, fighting against this massive fish. He worked all through the night and finally, with a great heave, pulled the fish onto the shore just as rays of light were beginning to appear over the horizon.
When the other Lakefishers arrived, they gasped in shock. They were overjoyed with the man’s monstrous catch. Together, they helped him drag it to the town, where it was bought for an incredible sum of gold by the mayor. The mayor, with joy on his face, invited the suddenly rich man to a feast, in which they would celebrate the capture of this great beast.
That night, the man and the other Lakefishers were seated in the great banquet hall of the mayor and his officials. The man couldn’t believe his luck as he prepared for the feast of a lifetime. Having made a toast to the man, the mayor went to cut a large slice of the fish when it happened. The fish’s mouth opened wide and the mayor disappeared between its cavernous jaws. The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the man. After that, no one knows for sure what occurred. The only thing known for sure is this: It was NOT just a fish. Really. I mean, how could it have been?
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Love it!
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Now that’s a real fish story! Hook, line, and … jaws! Nice!
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Very late and very short as the week got busy, but Fiona Grey prompted me with “Something in the walls wanted out.” This felt Lovecraftian to me.
It had to stop. The voice was talking to him. Again. He didn’t want to paint the spot on the wall with blood again. That made it stop. For a bit. But then it started talking again. And it wanted more. Higher blood this time. The rats had satisfied it at first. But then it wanted a cat or a dog. The sheep had helped for quite a while and he had enjoyed the mutton.
But it was never enough. He recognized the pattern. If he wasn’t careful, it would soon be demanding human blood. Or to be let out of the wall.
He wasn’t sure which was worse. That… thing… being loose in the world again. Or having to bathe the walls in human blood regularly. If only he hadn’t removed the symbol on the wall…
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Oh, wow. Really good, though I’m having trouble hitting the “like” button on this one…
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Put the rune that locks the spirit back! You let it out? Yikes!
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Yes, yes, please. Put it back!
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And now I’m pondering a story where someone opens a tomb/relic/thingy at a dig, and all the sensible people are ‘put it back!’ and how do they put it back?
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Very late and very short as the week got busy. Fiona Grey prompted me with “Something in the walls wanted out.” This prompt felt Lovecraftian to me, so I went stream of consciousness horror.
It had to stop. The voice was talking to him. Again. He didn’t want to paint the spot on the wall with blood again. That made it stop. For a bit. But then it started talking again. And it wanted more. Higher blood this time. The rats had satisfied it at first. But then it wanted a cat or a dog. The sheep had helped for quite a while and he had enjoyed the mutton.
But it was never enough. He recognized the pattern. If he wasn’t careful, it would soon be demanding human blood. Or to be let out of the wall.
He wasn’t sure which was worse. That… thing… being loose in the world again. Or having to bathe the walls in human blood regularly. If only he hadn’t removed the symbol on the wall…
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