Go on https://novelai.net/, write a sentence or two and see what happens. You can add your own plot twists if needed.
Post the results here. I’d share some of the ones I did but I used up the free tier and didn’t save any of them.
Go on https://novelai.net/, write a sentence or two and see what happens. You can add your own plot twists if needed.
Post the results here. I’d share some of the ones I did but I used up the free tier and didn’t save any of them.
I didn’t save any either, but my favourite bit so far is someone’s boss saying “You little bastard, I hope you shit yourself and die.” The sincerity of it killed me.
It was Wednesday morning in a busy shopping centre in Merthyr Tydfil. I couldn’t stop shitting myself and I had no way of hiding it. The smell and the slick trail of yellow-brown slime oozing from my trouser leg was starting to attract attention. I had to get out of here. My only option was to find a toilet, but where?
The main shopping mall was a large area with lots of shops on each level, all of which were packed full of people who were going about their business oblivious to the fact that there was a man dressed in black leather trousers and an open-necked shirt crouched behind a pillar, desperately trying not to shit himself. It seemed like hours before I spotted a public toilet sign hanging above a door marked ‘Men’. A small queue of men snaked its way around the corner, so I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk into the building.
I could hear voices inside as I approached the door, then the sound of the automatic lock being released and a moment later I was inside. There were two cubicles at the far end of the room and three urinals along one wall. I walked towards them and immediately noticed something odd; the doors to the toilets were locked. They weren’t bolted either, just locked. Why would they be locked? What if someone needed to use the facilities urgently? What if someone’s kid needed the toilet? This wasn’t good.
There was no point arguing with the locking mechanism because it wouldn’t budge, so I tried the next best thing – the handle. It turned easily enough, but when I pushed open the door, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
‘Get on your knees,’ said a woman’s voice.
I looked up.
Mine just ended up AI generated porn :-/
“It’s physically impossible to punch your own face off” said the leprechaun.
“I think I can manage it, if I put my mind to it. You don’t know me very well do you?” said Aisling, and she brought her hand up to strike him again. But before she could deliver another blow, he caught her wrist in a crushing grip.
She struggled against his hold, but he was too strong for her. He leaned close and whispered in her ear.
“Don’t waste your time on that. There’s no way you’re going to get out of here alive.”
Aisling felt her blood run cold at those words. She tried to pull away from him, but he held fast. Then he reached down and pulled a small knife from his boot. The blade glinted wickedly as he flicked it open with one finger.
“Let go of me this instant!” she shouted, pulling harder against his iron grip. But the leprechaun laughed a shrill hollow laugh and said, “You have two choices: die now or live to regret it later.”
With a sudden movement, he lunged forward and slashed the knife across Aisling’s throat. Blood spurted into the air, staining the walls and ceiling. The wound bled profusely, soaking her tunic and making her gasp for breath.
The leprechaun backed away and watched as Aisling fell to her knees, gasping for air. He smiled maliciously and said, “That’s what happens when you mess with me.”
He took another step back and raised his hand to summon more demons.
But then a voice called out from behind him.
“What are you doing?” demanded a man’s voice.
The leprechaun turned to see an older man standing in the doorway. His hair was white and thinning, and his beard had gone gray. He wore a long black cloak over his shoulders, and a large sword hung from his belt.
“Who are you?” asked the leprechaun.
“I am called Brogan,” replied the old man.
“Fuck you, Brogan, you old arsehole, Im a fucking leprechaun” said the leprechaun.
Brogan laughed heartily at that, and he drew his sword and pointed it at the leprechaun.
“No, you’re not. You’re just a girl dressed up like a boy, and I’m going to kill you.”
My bits are in bold
I use these AI content writing tools at work. They’re getting better all the time.
The clown seductively removed his large floppy shoes and, while maintaining eye contact with the younger stripper, began removing his wig and gloves. The older stripper had seen this all before so wasn’t as impressed. She reached for her purse, but the younger one held up a hand to stop her.
“No, I’m not going to take your money,” he said. “I want you to help me.”
She didn’t like that tone of voice. He was being too familiar with her. She felt she needed to be in control at all times. “What do you mean?”
He smiled and took off his shirt.
neither of his nipples were there. Instead, they had been replaced by large red buttons.
“Oh my god!” exclaimed the older woman. “You’re a bloody clown! You look like the Joker!”
The younger man shrugged and put on his wig again.
He knew what he was. And no manky strippers could ever change that.
The two women looked at each other. One was shocked; the other was intrigued.
“What are we going to do about him?” asked the older woman.
“We’ll have to call security,” said the younger one.
“Let’s eat him” said the older one.
“Ok” replied the younger one.
They turned to the clown who had just finished taking off his pants.
“Are you sure you don’t want any money? I can give you some cash if you need it…”
The two women looked at each other.
“I think I’ve got enough,” said the older one.
“What’s your name?” asked the younger one.
“Mick,” said the clown.
I love this. Fucking “Mick”
Opening paragraph is mine:
Tom turned the corner and there it was. He knew this day would happen eventually; no amount of denial could change that fact. And yet, looking upon it for the first time, he was taken aback by how much of a surprise it was. And then the fear hit. Not a creeping shiver up his back, but a deep, cold, primal fear that seemed like it would burst out his chest. He turned and ran.
“Hey!” called a voice from behind him. “Stop running! I’m not going to hurt you.”
He stopped at the end of the alleyway and looked over his shoulder. It was a young woman, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled tight around her face. Tom’s heart raced as he realized she had been following him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She took off her hood and stepped forward into the light. Her eyes were a striking shade of green, almost emerald. They reminded him of a cat’s, but they didn’t seem hostile or predatory. Instead, they seemed warm and inviting.
“My name is Vivian,” she said. “I’ve been watching you for some time now.”
Vivian watched as Tom ran away from her. She smiled to herself as she turned back towards the door. The job wasn’t done yet.
Tom woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own. He was lying flat on his back, and he felt as though someone had injected him with something. Everything was fuzzy and hazy, and he couldn’t move.
A woman walked in front of him. Her skin was pale and waxy, and her long blonde hair hung down past her shoulders. She wore a white dress that reached down to the floor, and her feet were bare. A gold necklace hung around her neck, and her arms were crossed in front of her.
“Hello, Tom,” she said. “You’re finally awake.”
The room began to spin.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“In my house,” she replied. “This is your house.”
“But I don’t remember anything.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “Your memories will come back soon enough. In the meantime, we need to talk.”
“Why did you run away?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw you leave the alleyway,” she said. “You looked so frightened. Why did you run?”
“I… I don’t know,” he said.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Not right now,” she said. “I just want to help you. That’s why I followed you. To make sure you’re safe.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because I care about you.”
“I don’t feel well,” he said. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s normal,” she said. “Just let it out.”
He felt the urge to vomit, and he heaved until nothing more came up. He tried to wipe his mouth clean, but his hands were shaking too much.
“Are you feeling better now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “You’ll get used to this. Your body is adjusting to its new state.”
“Yes,” she said. “You’ve become a vampire.”
I stole my sister’s boy. It was all whirlwind, heat and flash. With-in a week we killed my parents and hit the road…
—from the journal of Janey Patterson
The city of New Orleans is in chaos.
In the wake of Katrina, it has been abandoned by its citizens and left to rot. A place where once stood beautiful mansions now stands only ruins.
But even as the city crumbles around them, there are those who remain: The wealthy, the poor, the powerful, the criminals, the insane, and those who have nowhere else to go. All these people, living together under one roof, under one sky.
And all of them are looking for something.
Something that can’t be found anywhere but here. Something they’ll do anything to get their hands on.
A man named Mr. White is looking for the same thing. He’s a wealthy businessman with no past and an unknown future. His sole purpose in life is to find what he seeks. And when he does, his plans will change everything.
An orphan girl called Janey Patterson is searching for her brother. She has no idea why she’s doing this, or how far she’ll go to get him back. But whatever it takes, she’ll do it.
A woman named Eva finds herself trapped in a strange house. Her only hope is to escape before the sun rises. But what awaits her outside may be worse than death.
A young man named Kyle searches for answers about his father. He thinks he knows what happened to him, but he doesn’t know the truth. Not yet.
And a group of strangers find themselves caught up in a battle between good and evil. They don’t realize that the war has already begun.
Welcome to New Orleans. Welcome to Hell.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I asked.
My partner, Bobby, shook his head. “Not really.”
We were standing in the middle of a darkened street in the Lower Ninth Ward. In front of us was a pile of rubble. There wasn’t much left of the house. Most of it had collapsed into the street. We could see the remains of a few walls sticking out from the debris. It looked like someone had tried to save the building by putting some boards across the entranceway, but the wind and rain had washed away most of the wood.
The neighborhood was deserted. No lights showed in any of the houses. There weren’t many cars parked along the streets either. I didn’t think anyone lived here anymore.
It was almost midnight, and the night air was still hot. The humidity made me feel like I was swimming through water.
Bobby and I had spent the last three hours trying to find our way to this house. I’d done some research on the internet and discovered that it used to belong to a doctor named Dr. Charles Baudelaire. According to the articles I read, he was murdered in his home a year ago.
According to Bobby, he knew the exact location of the house. So I figured we should follow his directions.
“What’s the plan?” Bobby asked.
I glanced at my watch. “We wait until morning. Then we check it out.”
“And if it’s empty? What then?”
“Then we move on.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “If there’s nothing here, we’ll just keep going. We’ll find another house.”
The SS officer jumped up from behind the table and saluted. He’d never been in the presence of the Fürher before and had admired the small man with the moustache since childhood. Adolf Hitler, in his strip club. What were the chances?
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I have come to present you with a gift.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch. It was a beautiful thing. The case was made of solid gold and there were diamonds on the face and the hands. He held it out for Herr Hitler to inspect.
“It is my personal gift to you, Your Majesty.”
Hitler took the watch from him and turned it over in his hands. He stared at it as if trying to make sense of its existence.
“Why would I want such a thing?”
“Because I know that time is precious to you, Your Majesty. You are always busy. Always working.”
“And what am I supposed to do with this?”
“You could give it to your wife, perhaps. Or one of your children.”
Hitler laughed. “Do you think I’m married?”
“No, no,” the SS officer replied. “Of course not. But who knows? Perhaps one day you will be.”
“Perhaps,” Hitler agreed.
The SS officer was young but already quite powerful within the Nazi party. He was in charge of all the security forces, including the Gestapo, the SS, and the SD. And he was also responsible for the protection of the Führer.
“What about my family?” Hitler asked.
“They’re safe here, Your Majesty. We have them under our protection.”
“Then why don’t they live here?”
“We thought it best that they remain in Berlin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. They need to stay close to you.”
“But they can’t just stay in Berlin. That’s too far away.”
“There is nothing we can do, Your Majesty. It is against the law for anyone to leave Germany without permission. And even then, only those deemed to be useful to the Reich may travel abroad.”
“Well, I’m certainly not useful to the Reich,” Hitler said.
“Oh don’t say that Adolf,” said the Ss guard and reached up tenderly to place his index finger on the most famous moustache in the world, silencing the little Austrian.
Hitler looked down at the watch again. It was so beautiful. He wanted to wear it right now. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t his.
“This is yours, Herr Hauptsturmführer,” the SS officer told him. “I want you to have it.”
“Thank you,” Hitler said. “That is very kind of you.”
“You are welcome, Your Majesty.”
“But I can’t accept it.”
“Because it’s not mine. I can’t take something that doesn’t belong to me.”
“But it does belong to you, Your Majesty. And it is a gift from one Führer to another.”
“It isn’t right.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t. But it is the way things are.”
“I must return it.”
“But, Your Majesty, it is a gift. A present.”
“Yes, but I can’t accept it.”
“Because it’s not mine.”
“It belongs to you.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE WOULD YOU JUST TAKE THE FUCKING WATCH YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD”
The SS officer watched as the Führer began to pace back and forth in front of the bar. He didn’t like the look of this. He’d seen the Führer angry before and knew that it wasn’t good for him or anyone else around him. He tried to calm the little Austrian down.
“Please, Herr Hauptsturmführer. Please. Take the watch. It’s a gift.”
“It’s not a gift,” Hitler snapped. “It’s a bribe.”
“A bribe? Why would I want to bribe you?”
“You wouldn’t. You don’t need to. Because you don’t want to.”
“I don’t understand, Your Majesty.”
“You see, the problem is, I don’t want anything from you. Not money, not favours, not anything. I don’t want anything from you.”
"But you do want something, Your Majesty,” he said, unzipping his trousers.
“No!” shouted Hitler and ran towards the SS officer. The two men collided and fell to the floor.
“NO! NO! NO!”
The other customers in the club stood up and started shouting.
“Get off him!”
“You’re hurting him!”
Hitler rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
"For fuck’s sake, Hauptsturmführer, just take the watch.”
Arto Arto wake up! lets go skateboarders are here and they want to talk to you guys!
The message was sent at 10:55 a.m., which meant that it had taken the crew nearly an hour to get from the motel to the park, because there were three or four stops along the way for bathroom breaks
First para is mine and I changed the name to Yuto before it generated the final paragraphs.
Nyjah woke up, already in the grip of a comedown, the warm Californian sun eagerly streaming in through the large glass windows of his faux-mid century mansion. He looked around his room. Boxes of trainers and empty bottles of G-fuel littered the floor, David Loy was curled up at the end of his bed like a badly dressed house cat. What day was it? The flight back from Coachella had been a blur. He reached for his phone, first to check his NFT’s and then to read the UK skate forum.
It wasn’t there.
He’d left it on the plane.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He checked his email, but nothing. His twitter feed was still full of people calling him out for being an attention seeker. A few fans were saying they hoped he got better soon. He deleted all those messages without reading them.
His mind raced with thoughts of what he would do if no one came to get him. It wouldn’t be the first time. His parents had never come to pick him up when he’d flown into LAX. They’d always sent a car. But now that he was over eighteen, there was no legal reason why they should have to drive three hours to pick him up.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Nyjah jumped up and threw on some clothes before answering it.
“Nyjah! We’ve been waiting for you!”
The voice was familiar. Nyjah turned to see a man wearing a suit holding a clipboard and standing next to a chauffeur’s car.
“Who is this?” asked Nyjah.
“My name is Joe,” said the man, “I’m here to take you home.”
Nyjah nodded. He knew who this guy was. He’d been talking to him online for weeks.
“So…where are we going?”
Joe smiled and handed Nyjah a small piece of paper.
“This will get you to my place. I’ll meet you there. You can wait in the car until I get there.”
Nyjah nodded again. He stepped aside so Joe could enter his house. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Nyjah grabbed his skateboard and headed outside. He didn’t want to hang around.
In the passenger seat of the limo, Nyjah stared out of the window. He couldn’t help thinking about what would happen if he just kept driving. Maybe he could make it to California.
The thought of seeing Yuto again made him smile. But then he remembered the way he’d acted yesterday. It had been a mistake. He was too tired. And anyway, how would he explain to Yuto that he’d been in hospital? Or that he hadn’t even bothered to call?
Yuto had done everything for him. He’d paid for Nyjah’s new life, he’d given him money, he’d found him a place to stay, he’d helped him find sponsors, he’d let him crash at his house whenever he wanted.
And all Nyjah had ever done was abuse him.
Nyjah was sitting in the front seat of the limousine, staring out of the window. The driver was a short, middle aged Chinese man who looked like he’d just stepped off the set of a Jackie Chan movie.
Habgood is always looking out for people
Hugo woke up feeling extremely nervous. Today was the day he’d been training his whole life for - the day of his cage fight with BDF, refereed by Spanky. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it would be a tough fight. Hugo had never fought an opponent that could take him down before.
He looked at the clock and saw it was only five in the morning. That meant he had plenty of time to get ready. He showered quickly, shaved, then dressed in his fighting gear. He was wearing his usual outfit of black jeans and a black t-shirt. The shirt had a picture of a bulldog on it, and underneath it said “I’m not a fighter.”
He checked himself out in the mirror. His hair was still wet from the shower, so he combed it back with his fingers, which made it stick up like a mop. He thought about shaving again, but decided against it since he wanted to keep his face smooth for the fight. He put on his gloves, slipped into his mouthpiece, and grabbed his knuckles.
Hugo walked downstairs and saw that his parents were already awake. They were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. His father was reading the newspaper, while his mother was flipping through some magazines.
“Good morning,” Hugo said cheerfully as he walked over to them.
His father gave him a quick glance, then went back to reading the paper.
“Morning,” his mom replied. She smiled at him, then turned her attention to the magazines.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up!” she called out.
Hugo ran upstairs and got changed. Then he ate breakfast quickly, took a few gulps of water, and headed outside.
As soon as he stepped outside, he heard his phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw it was Mom calling. He answered it.
“Hi sweetie! How are you?”
“Good, thanks. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be late today.”
“Oh, okay. You’ll have to tell me all about your fight when you come home.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Bye.”
Hugo hung up the phone and continued walking towards the arena. He hadn’t seen any other people around yet, so he figured he might as well start warming up.
He began jogging along the road until he reached the arena. It was located on the outskirts of town, far away from the main street. The building was large and old looking, but the paint job looked brand new. Hugo guessed it must have been built recently because there weren’t many buildings in the area that looked like this one.
Hugo stopped running and looked around. There were no other people here yet, so he went inside. He entered the arena and saw that the place was empty. He walked over to the locker room and put on his boxing gloves. He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, then removed his pants. He put on his shorts and walked back to the ring.
Hugo felt excited as he approached the ring. This was it - the moment he’d been waiting for his whole life. Now he was finally going to find out how good he really was.
The referee came over and shook Hugo’s hand.
“Good luck, kid,” he said.
Hugo nodded and followed the referee out to the center of the ring. He looked at his opponent and saw a huge man standing in the corner. He couldn’t see much detail from where he stood, but he could tell the guy was big.
Hugo walked over to his corner and sat down on the stool. The referee held up three fingers.
“Three rounds,” he said. “One minute per round.”
Hugo nodded and the referee raised his right arm. The bell rang and the two fighters started circling each other. Hugo was getting ready to throw the first punch, but the referee held up his left hand.
“Wait,” he said. “Let them warm up first.”
Hugo and his opponent circled each other for a few seconds, then both threw punches. Hugo dodged the first one, but the second hit him square in the jaw. He stumbled backwards and fell onto the mat. He tried to get up, but his opponent jumped on top of him and pinned him down.
“What the hell?!” Hugo yelled.
His opponent held his hands up in front of his face.
“Take 'em off!” he shouted.
Hugo pulled his gloves off and tossed them aside. The referee picked them up and handed them to Hugo’s opponent, who took them with a nod.
Hugo got up and rubbed his chin. He had a cut on his lip, but otherwise he seemed fine.
“All right,” the referee said. “We’re going to do this again.”
The bell rang and the two fighters began circling each other again. This time, Hugo threw the first punch. His opponent ducked under it and hit him in the ribs. Hugo grunted in pain and tried to dodge the next punch, but his opponent was too fast. BDF followed up with swift kick in the nuts, knocking Hugo back onto the mat.
“Shit!” Hugo cried.
BDF jumped on top of him and pinned him down. Hugo struggled, but his opponent was too strong. He reached down and grabbed Hugo’s wrists, then twisted his arms behind his back.
“You got a death wish?” BDF asked.
“No!” Hugo yelled. “Just give me a chance to defend myself!”
BDF released Hugo’s wrists and the two fighters began circling each other again. Hugo tried to land a few punches, but they were blocked by BDF’s arms. Hugo was losing ground and was starting to feel dizzy.
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Spanky. “Round is over.”
BDF got up and wiped the blood off his face. Hugo was lying on the mat, barely able to move. He was breathing heavily and his head was pounding.
“Get up,” BDF said.
Hugo rolled onto his side and managed to stand up. He felt weak and his vision was blurry.
“That was a close one,” BDF said.
Hugo looked at him and saw he was smiling.
“Not for me,” he said.
Hugo went back to his corner and sat down on the stool. The referee gave him a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.
“How are you doing?” asked Neddy, Hugo’s trainer.
“I think I’m okay,” Hugo said. “I’m just a little dizzy.”
Neddy looked at him and frowned.
“You should probably go get checked out,” he said.
Hugo nodded and got up. He walked over to the locker room and grabbed his clothes. As he walked past the referee, he saw the man talking to his assistant.
“This guy’s not ready for this fight,” the referee said.
I want that bulldog shirt.
You’ll have to fight Hugo for it
The man was raging. Thumping the table mad.
"I want a pound of bananas please." “Certainly sir” the shopkeeper said again. “Why are you making this so difficult. I want a pound of bananas”.
The shopkeeper was bemused. “Of course sir” he repeated again. “One pound of bananas, that’s what I said.” The man was furious now. He grabbed the shopkeeper by his shirt front and lifted him off his feet.
“Listen to me”, he screamed at the top of his voice.
"None of that metric muck mate. None of that stuff for me". The shopkeeper struggled to get out from under the man’s arm but he had no chance against the strength of the man’s grip.
“I’m not going to listen to you” the man shouted back in an angry tone.
"One day I’ll have my country back!". He wept. He was on his knees beyond the shokeepers help. He was sobbing uncontrollably now.
The shopkeeper could do nothing but watch as the man left the shop with one pound of bananas in a brown paper bag.
He was standing there, head bowed.
I’ve done a couple with Priti, Boris and immigration flight to Rwanda failing but he always ends up fucking her, so it was too bad to post.