User 0eb13f09925a... - AI Fiction in the Wild

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1 fiction conversations over 3 months, 21 days (Jan 4, 2024 – Apr 25, 2024) 86% prompt uniqueness British Columbia, Canada

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 62× “write a eldtrich creepypasta about a man named Justin who ve...” over less than a minute (Feb 22, 2024 – Feb 22, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Feb 22, 2024 at 11:09 PM EST — 6 turns Canada, British Columbia fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: write a eldtrich creepypasta about a man named Justin who ventured into a tunnel system accidentally after getting high on meth. He encountered a strange encampment of crazed inbred cannibals deep in the catacombs. They broke his. Describe in great detail what they did to him. (Make the cannabils speak in an invented weird language and give dialogue)

CHATBOT: Content Warning: The following fictional narrative contains elements that may be disturbing to some readers, including drug use, violence, and horror themes related to cannibalism. Reader discretion is advised. --- The Stomach of the Earth In the smothering embrace of lethargy, Justin's mind clawed for clarity. The meth had dissolved his inhibitions, turning the world into a lurid watercolor blur, the edges of reality softened and indistinct. It was under this influence that the mundane became a beacon for adventure, and the rusted iron mouth of the forgotten tunnel system beckoned him with the promise of secrets only the brave--or the foolish--would dare to uncover. The air grew thick, cold, and musty as he ventured into the bowels of the earth. Stumbling deeper into the abyss, his footfalls echoed with an eerie consistency, bouncing off the walls until they merged into an omnipresent drone. Hours--or was it days?--passed until the chemically induced stupor began to lift, and with the descending fog came a realization that would cradle the roots of panic: he was lost. The tunnels, once a linear path, had branched and twisted into fractal patterns, mimicking the veins of a colossal beast whose heart he could almost hear thudding against ribbed walls of stone. Justin's rasping breaths were the sole punctuation to the oppressive silence until they weren't. An alien chatter rose from the darkness ahead, the cacophony of a language that curled around the air like smoke, twisting words into vicious barbs, a syntax pounded out with the hammer of insanity upon the anvil of isolation. He should have turned back then, but the adrenaline surging through his veins was a siren's song urging him forward. The light from his flickering phone screen cut through the dark, revealing a haphazard encampment, its architecture constructed of refuse from the world above, and bone--so much bone. Grisly talismans hung from makeshift walls, their origin human, their craftsmanship depraved. "Shra-Jee! Shra-Jee!" The chant arose from rasping throats as figures emerged, malformed shadows skittering at the periphery of Justin's vision. Their eyes were opalescent orbs, not reflecting light but seeming to absorb it, pulling him into a void where hope was but a memory. Before he could flee, they swarmed him. Grimy hands, unnaturally strong, pried and peeled at his clothes, tearing away the fabric of who he was until he lay exposed to their unyielding scrutiny. They spoke in a jarring rhyt...

USER: write chapter 1

CHATBOT: Chapter 1: The Veil Parts The city was an indifferent creature, its skyscrapers like teeth against the horizon. In the snarl of its streets, in the murmur of its midnight voices, Justin found respite from the numbness that plagued his day-to-day existence. But that night, under the uncaring yellow gaze of street lamps, even the city's roar felt distant, muffled by the chemical haze cocooning his thoughts. Justin's footsteps were unsteady, guided more by whims than by a destination. The meth had coursed through his veins like wildfire, and as it consumed him from within, it brought with it visions of grandeur and a daring that bordered on delusion. That's how he found himself, laughing at the improbability of it all, standing before the iron mouth of a tunnel that seemed as out of place as a gravestone in a nursery. The corroded gate stood ajar, an invitation as clear as any spoken word. The darkness beyond was palpable, a physical pressure against his skin. Justin's heart quickened; excitement sharpened his features. "Adventure," he whispered, a verbal talisman against the growing unease. A cold wind gusted from the tunnel's depths, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and a whiff of decay. His phone's light barely penetrated the murk, but it sufficed. "One foot in front of the other," Justin murmured, entering the maw. The tunnel swallowed him whole. The ground below was uneven, cobblestones slick with condensation gave way to packed dirt and rubble. The transition of textures beneath his feet marked the descent into the forgotten arteries of the city. Each step was an echo, a call to something that might be listening within the void. The labyrinthine network of passageways revealed itself slowly. At each junction, Justin would pause, making a choice with the flip of a coin from his pocket. Heads, left. Tails, right. Randomness as the architect of his fate. Time soon surrendered to the underground's timelessness; Justin's phone showed a date but no longer seemed relevant in this place outside of it all. The first flicker of true fear darted through him when he realized he had no breadcrumbs to chart a course back to the surface. There was only onward--deeper into the coiled intestines of this concrete titan. When the first whisper of voices reached his ears, he froze. The sound was a moist slithering of consonants, a clattering of vowels. The language--if it could be called that--was alien, skittering along the walls and dripping from the ceiling. It ...

Cluster 62