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You will be given a sentence that describes a restaurant. You will also be given a few categories of information regarding that sentence. Your task is to fill each of the categories with the appropriate information from the sentenece. Input: I suspect xname is alright because it is an Italian restaurant. It's in TriBeCa/SoHo with decent ambiance. Categories: decor, recommend, cuisine

Sure, here is the output: * decor: acceptable * recommend: yes * cuisine: Italian

Extract the facts from the paragraph. The COVID-19 pandemic brought about an increase in online shopping because of government-imposed restrictions and consumer anxiety over the potential health risk associated with in-store shopping.

This text contains the following facts: * The COVID-19 pandemic brought about an increase in online shopping. * The COVID-19 caused anxiety over potential health risk associated with in-store shopping.

Is 1021 a prime number?

Numbers having only 2 factors, i.e. 1 and the number itself are known as prime numbers whereas numbers with more than 2 factors are known as composite. Hence, 1021 is a prime number. The number 1021 is divisible only by 1 and the number itself.

Translate into Chinese: "It’s safe to say that most of us regularly feel crunched for time. So much so that we are experiencing what Ashley Whillans of the Harvard Business School, the lead author of the study, describes as a “time famine.” And like any famine, this chronic lack of time takes its toll on our health."

可以很肯定地说，我们中大多数人经常会感觉时间不够用。哈佛商学院的艾希莉·威廉斯(Ashley Whillans)是这项研究的负责人，她将这种频繁的情况描述为“时间饥荒“。和其他类型的饥荒一样，长期的时间不足会对我们的健康造成损害。

You're given a paragraph from the research paper and your task is to generate a suitable title for the research paper based on the given paper. Under 100 words is a good title length. The severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) epidemic originating from China in 2002 was caused by a previously uncharacterized coronavirus that could be identified by specific RT-PCR amplification. Efforts to control future SARS outbreaks depend on the accurate and early identification of SARS-CoV infected patients. A real-time fluorogenic RT-PCR assay based on the 3 -noncoding region (3 -NCR) of SARS-CoV genome was developed as a quantitative SARS diagnostic tool. The ideal amplification efficiency of a sensitive SARS-CoV RT-PCR assay should yield an E value (PCR product concentration increase per amplification cycle) equal to 2.0. It was demonstrated that the 3 -NCR SARS-CoV based RT-PCR reactions could be formulated to reach excellent E values of 1.81, or 91% amplification efficacy. The SARS-CoV cDNA preparations derived from viral RNA extract and the cloned recombinant plasmid both exhibit the identical amplification characteristics, i.e. amplification efficacy using the same PCR formulation developed in this study. The viral genomic copy (or genomic equivalences, GE) per infectious unit (GE/pfu) of SARS-CoV used in this study was also established to be approximate 1200-1600:1. The assay's detection sensitivity could reach 0.005 pfu or 6-8 GE per assay. It was preliminarily demonstrated that the assay could efficiently detect SARS-CoV from clinical specimens of SARS probable and suspected patients identified in Taiwan. The 3 -NCR based SARS-CoV assay demonstrated 100% diagnostic specificity testing samples of patients with acute respiratory disease from a non-SARS epidemic region.

Here is a title for this paragraph: Development and evaluation of an efficient 3-noncoding region-based SARS coronavirus (SARS-CoV) RT-PCR assay for detection of SARS-CoV.

What is the word that describes all the devices that express time?

Chronometer. A chronometer is an extraordinarily accurate timepiece, with an original focus on the needs of maritime navigation. The modern chronometer is, broadly speaking, an instrument for measuring time, especially one designed to measure time very accurately in spite of motion or variations in temperature, humidity, and air pressure. This is the largest category that encompasses every possible device whose function is to measure the passing of time.

What is 25/2 of a milligram in micrograms?

Here is the solution: 25/2 of a milligram is 12.5 milligram. Since 1 milligram = 1,000 micrograms, 25/2 of a milligram = 12.5 * 1,000 = 12,500 micrograms.

Betty has a tray of cookies and a tray of brownies. She has a real sweet tooth and eats 3 cookies a day and 1 brownie a day. If she starts with 60 cookies and 10 brownies, how many more cookies than brownies does she have after a week of eating like this?

Here is the solution step by step: First we find how many cookies Betty will eat in a week by multiplying her daily amount by 7, meaning 7*3= 21 cookies eaten in a week. We repeat this for the brownies, finding she eats 7*1= 7 brownies in a week. We subtract the 21 cookies from the original amount of 60, finding 60-21= 39 cookies remaining. We repeat this step for the brownies, finding 10-7= 3 brownies remaining. In the end, therefore, Betty has 39-3= 36 more cookies than brownies.

In this task, you're given a pair of sentences, sentence 1 and sentence 2. Your job is to determine if the two sentences clearly agree/disagree with each other, or if this can't be determined. Indicate your answer as yes or no respectively. Sentence 1: One of the first organizational realignments taking place is in the Office of the Taxpayer Advocate. Sentence 2: The office of the taxpayer advocate is having an organizational realignment.

These two sentences agree with each other, because both sentences refer to the reorganization of an official department.

Is 1011 a prime number?

A prime number is divisible only by 1 and itself, which means it has no other divisor except 1 and the number itself. Hence, 1011 is not a prime number. The number 1011 is divisible by 1, 3, 337, 1011.

Is 7863 greater than 7654?

7863 - 7654 = 209 > 0, thus Yes, 7863 is greater than 7654.

Given a paragraph, generate a claim that is supported by the given paragraph. 1) The claim must contain information from within the paragraph. 2) A sentence within the paragraph can be used as a claim. 3) The claim should not have contradictions within the paragraph. 4) The claim should be at most one sentence long. Although the story didn’t cite the cost of appendectomy – emergency or urgent surgery – and we wish it had, we nonetheless will give it a satisfactory score because it at least cited what the editorial writer wrote, "A secondary benefit is the savings to the hospital generated by minimizing staff and anesthesiologist presence late in the evening and during the wee hours of the morning." As with our harms score above, although the story didn’t give absolute numbers, in this case we think it was sufficient for it to report that "The scientists found no significant difference among the groups in the patients’ condition 30 days after surgery or in the length of their operation or hospital stay." Although the story didn’t give absolute numbers, in this case we think it was sufficient for it to report that "The scientists found no significant difference among the groups in the patients’ condition 30 days after surgery or in the length of their operation or hospital stay." Despite running less than 300 words, this story did an adequate job in explaining the quality of the evidence, including pointing out limitations. No disease-mongering here. The story meets the bare minimum requirement for this criterion in that it at least cited what an editorial stated. The focus of the story was on a study comparing emergency appendectomy with surgery done up to 12 hours later or beyond. This is the whole focus of the story – and one we applaud – when it begins: "Appendectomy is the most common emergency surgery in the world, but it doesn’t have to be." There were no claims made about the novelty of this research, and we may have wished for a bit more context on this. Nonetheless, the potential for guiding future care decisions was made clear. Not applicable. Given that the story only pulled excerpts from the journal article and the accompanying editorial, and didn’t include any fresh quotes from interviews, we can’t be sure of the extent to which it may have been influenced by a news release.

Here is one claim that is supported by the paragraph: Some appendicitis cases may not require ’emergency’ surgery. Because the paragraph mentions that "Appendectomy is the most common emergency surgery in the world, but it doesn’t have to be.", which is considered evidence for the output. Thus, the output is a valid claim.

Translate the following text into English. 在我们的文化中，家庭关系非常重要，我们会尽力照顾我们的父母和长辈。

In our culture, family relationships are very important, and we will do our best to take care of our parents and elders.

Given a English text, translate it into Chinese. My hometown has beautiful natural scenery and a rich history and culture.

我的家乡有着美丽的自然风景和悠久的历史文化。

Detect entities from this text. Yesterday afternoon, The Google Cloud Services went down in the southamerica-west1 data center in Santiago.

The following are the detected entities: Google Cloud Services, southamerica-west1 data center, Santiago.

Edit this sentence and make sure it is grammatically correct. I went to the bus stop, and come across my classmates Mary.

I went to the bus stop, and came across my classmate Mary.

Blanche, Rose and Dorothy liked to collect sea glass when they went to the beach. Blanche found 12 pieces of green and 3 pieces of red sea glass. Rose found 9 pieces of red and 11 pieces of blue sea glass. If Dorothy found twice as many pieces of red glass as Blanche and Rose and three times as much blue sea glass as Rose, how many pieces did Dorothy have?

Here is the solution step by step: Blanche found 3 pieces of red and Rose found 9 pieces of red for a total of 3+9 = 12 pieces of red. Dorothy found twice the amount of red as her friends so she has 2*12 = 24 pieces of red sea glass. Rose found 11 pieces of blue sea glass and Dorothy found 3 times that amount so she had 11*3 = 33 pieces of blue glass. Together, Dorothy found 24 red and 33 blue so she had 24+33 = 57 pieces of sea glass.

Generate a title for the following paragraph: Coxsackieviruses are enteric viruses that frequently infect humans. To examine coxsackievirus pathogenesis, we orally inoculated mice with the coxsackievirus B3 (CVB3) Nancy strain. Using HeLa cell plaque assays with agar overlays, we noticed that some fecal viruses generated plaques >100 times as large as inoculum viruses. These large-plaque variants emerged following viral replication in several different tissues. We identified a single amino acid change, N63Y, in the VP3 capsid protein that was sufficient to confer the large-plaque phenotype. Wild-type CVB3 and N63Y mutant CVB3 had similar plaque sizes when agarose was used in the overlay instead of agar. We determined that sulfated glycans in agar inhibited plaque formation by wildtype CVB3 but not by N63Y mutant CVB3. Furthermore, N63Y mutant CVB3 bound heparin, a sulfated glycan, less efficiently than wild-type CVB3 did. While N63Y mutant CVB3 had a growth defect in cultured cells and reduced attachment, it had enhanced replication and pathogenesis in mice. Infection with N63Y mutant CVB3 induced more severe hepatic damage than infection with wild-type CVB3, likely because N63Y mutant CVB3 disseminates more efficiently to the liver. Our data reinforce the idea that culture-adapted laboratory virus strains can have reduced fitness in vivo. N63Y mutant CVB3 may be useful as a platform to understand viral adaptation and pathogenesis in animal studies. IMPORTANCE Coxsackieviruses frequently infect humans, and although many infections are mild or asymptomatic, there can be severe outcomes, including heart inflammation. Most studies with coxsackieviruses and other viruses use laboratory-adapted viral strains because of their efficient replication in cell culture. We used a cell culture-adapted strain of CVB3, Nancy, to examine viral replication and pathogenesis in orally inoculated mice. We found that mice shed viruses distinct from input viruses because they formed extremely large plaques in cell culture. We identified a single mutation, VP3 N63Y, that was sufficient for large-plaque formation. N63Y mutant viruses have reduced glycan binding and replication in cell culture; however, they have enhanced replication and virulence in mice. We are now using N63Y mutant CVB3 as an improved system for viral pathogenesis studies. Citation Wang Y, Pfeiffer JK. 2016. Emergence of a large-plaque variant in mice infected with coxsackievirus B3. mBio 7(2):e00119-16.

Here is a title for this paragraph: Emergence of a Large-Plaque Variant in Mice Infected with Coxsackievirus B3.

Extract five keywords from the text. Natural language processing (NLP) is an interdisciplinary subfield of linguistics, computer science, and artificial intelligence concerned with the interactions between computers and human language, in particular how to program computers to process and analyze large amounts of natural language data.

Five keywords of this text are: interdisciplinary, linguistics, computer, intelligence, language.

Give me a tl;dr of the article: Mario Balotelli moved a step closer to an Anfield exit in the summer as Liverpool manager Brendan Rodgers revealed that the Italian had withdrawn himself from the squad to travel to Arsenal after taking a 'slight knock' in training. The £16million striker would only have been a substitute against Arsenal and would even have been behind Daniel Sturridge, who also started on the bench, in the pecking order. And Rodgers revealed the striker did not travel with the squad after a sustaining training ground injury on Friday. Mario Balotelli was not included in the Liverpool squad to face Arsenal after picking up a slight knock Brendan Rodgers revealed that Balotelli withdrew himself from the squad and did not travel to London 'He trained on Friday afternoon with the team and he took a slight knock to his knee and he deemed himself not able to travel,' said Rodgers. 'I'm not a medic. He felt it was too sore to travel. The medical staff have looked at it. It was just something that he himself didn't feel comfortable enough to travel.' Arsenal ran out 4-1 winners against Liverpool at the Emirates on Saturday Mesut Ozil scored Arsenal's second as Hector Bellerin, Alexis Sanchez and Olivier Giroud also netted Though Rodgers did not question Balotelli's commitment to the club's cause, the player has been a constant source of frustration at the club this season, with the manager having previously made it clear that he would have to work much harder to adapt to Liverpool's style. With just four goals in 25 appearances, his future at the club is already in question – though he has another three years on his contract.

Here is the summary: Liverpool were beaten 4-1 by Arsenal at the Emirates stadium on Saturday. Mario Balotelli was absent from the squad due to a training ground knock. Brendan Rodgers revealed Balotelli withdrew himself from the team. The Italian did not even travel with the team for the premier league clash.

Can you give me the gist of the text in a nutshell? Dating a girl from another culture. Lots good about the relationship. Common professional interests, identical sex drives, and we respect each other, which is a new thing for me in relationships (always been with girls who kinda have a bad attitude about males). She totally loves me. But I have some serious concerns about long term viability. One concerns parents. My parents, upon learning that we were a thing, said, "remember, you are her ticket to stay in America." Her parents, upon learning that we were a real thing, wanted to know how much money I make (I'm a grad student), and wanted to make sure I was OK with their tradition of supporting parents in their retirement as a sign of respect (despite that they are well off enough to not need such help). GF is in agreement with her folks about this and says if I am not OK with it she will just have to make more money and do it herself. Also, GF says her parents could 'never know' that I was previously married and am now divorced. There are some other issues as well that I've been able to overcome/overlook (one example, she's not social, I am), but their combination makes me feel that a future with her is risky with lots of prior indications of trouble ahead. In my previous marriage I ignored those kinds of signs and paid a price for it, and I'm not wanting to repeat that history. At the same time, it is really nice to have a partner who is on board with me sexually whom I also get along with pretty well. Curious to know what others' experiences have been with a cross-cultural situation like this, especially if you have long-term experiences.

The given text discusses that cultural differences really put a crimp in the author's desire to further develop a relationship into marriage. While the author's parents see the marriage as an opportunity for the girl to stay in America, the girl parents expect the author to support them in retirements. The author is seeking inputs from others who have similar experiences.

Should I put a comma before the last item in a list? e.g. I would like crackers, cheese and some soda. vs. I would like crackers, cheese, and some soda.

Using a comma before the last item in a list is known as the Oxford Comma, sometimes the Serial Comma. It is used before conjunctions in a list like this with three or more items. Its use is purely written style and optional. It is more common in America outside journalism, and much less common in other English speaking areas of the world. There are arguments for and against which usually come down to comprehension. Comma use is something of a grey area though, and everyone has his own style. Pick what reduces ambiguity. Language log has an interesting article on how reading comprehension can be improved with comma use, including this type.

Give me a one-line summary of the article: Change is coming to Ferguson. In the next few weeks the Department of Justice (DOJ) will begin to negotiate in earnest with the city to restructure the police department, which the department has charged with engaging in a pattern and practice of racial discrimination. It should not be forgotten that the DOJ review of the Ferguson Police Department was precipitated by months of protests and activism following the killing of Michael Brown by a Ferguson police officer and by revelations about the town's dysfunctional government and court system by local civil rights law groups. Now, after a half year of unrest, and with citizens on Tuesday electing two new black city council members, change is beginning to come to Ferguson. The question is, what kind of change? The report from the Department of Justice offered a devastating insight into a police department and court system that preyed on its own citizens. Through illegal traffic stops and arrests, and the use of excessive force, the police department held town residents in bondage. The municipal court system used excessive court fines and fees to ensure that citizens arrested for even minor infractions would be charged thousands of dollars or face jail time. Court costs and fees constituted the second-largest sources of revenue for the town. Rather than a force for public safety, the Ferguson Police Department became, according to Attorney General Eric Holder, "a collection agency" -- one that preyed disproportionately on the town's African-American residents. The evidence of ugly and explicit racial discrimination was devastating. It included blatantly racist emails traded among officers, and evidence that African-Americans were victims in all of the police canine bite incidents recorded by the department. But just a few weeks before the release of the report, the Ferguson police chief declared there were "no racial issues" in his department. Ferguson's ugly, racist emails released The recommendations in the report, ranging from new training and supervision of police officers, addressing racially discriminatory conduct to structural revisions in the court system, will, if implemented, remake the law enforcement system in the town. (A grand jury that investigated the shooting of Brown by Officer Darren Wilson chose not to file charges against him and the Justice Department also didn't find reason to prosecute.) Without question, change is coming to the town's government. Town Manager John Shaw, Ferguson's most powerful official and, until the DOJ's blistering report, the one who inexplicably managed to elude public scrutiny, resigned weeks ago and has been replaced by the city's deputy manager. Three sitting city council members chose not to run for office again and, on Tuesday, citizens elected two black candidates to the city council, changing its racial composition: Five of six members and the mayor were white. Now the council will be 50% black. Ferguson's hapless police Chief Thomas Jackson also finally resigned after holding on through a months-long display of astonishing incompetence. The department first drew the attention of the nation for its display of military weaponry and tear gas in response to civilian protests. The appointment of a commander from the State Highway Patrol was deemed necessary to begin quelling the unrest and to build community trust in the early days of the protest. Jackson's departure sent an important signal to the population of a town preyed upon by officers under his command. And so we can be certain that along with the new makeup of the city council, there will be a new police chief in Ferguson. But does that mean that fundamental change will come to Ferguson? Not necessarily. Not unless protest and activism during this critical period turns to influence the vitally important opportunities that lie ahead in the coming weeks. The Department of Justice's full-on negotiations with the leadership in Ferguson will determine the shape of the new Ferguson Police Department. Indeed, the DOJ report alludes to the possibility of disbanding the department in favor of a regional policing integration with St. Louis County. Many local activists have suggested just such a solution, but given ongoing problems with policing in the county -- including the role of county forces in some of the most controversial clashes with activists in Ferguson last fall -- community representatives will have to fight hard to ensure that the DOJ can fold St. Louis County Police into its monitoring and reform process. Equally important were the April 7 general elections. Turnout in municipal elections has been notoriously low in Ferguson, with white voters nearly three times more likely to turn out than African-Americans. But local groups had engaged in vigorous voter registration and get-out-the-vote campaigns.. The Mayor has two years left to his term and has defiantly insisted that he will not resign (although a petition for his recall has been circulating). That means that he will be a lead voice in negotiating with the DOJ to remake the police department. Has he committed to a clear set of principles that will guide his participation in those talks? Community activists and residents must ensure that Mayor James Knowles plans to represent their vision of new Ferguson Police Department. But there is an opportunity to begin thinking about even more ambitious structural change in Ferguson and throughout St. Louis County. Ferguson's governing structure, with a strong city manager and a weak council and mayor, mirrors that of thousands of other suburbs in the United States. That form of governance might have been precisely what thriving, middle class white suburbanites wanted when they fled racial integration in cities like St. Louis. But working class suburbs like Ferguson with a majority black population in which the needs of the population in the areas of education and economic opportunity more closely hews to the needs of urban residents, may need a more robust form of governance. In any case, a system in which the elected officials have minimal power, but non-elected leaders, like the town manager and the chief of police, have inordinate power, is a recipe for the kind of unaccountable, non-representative government that controlled Ferguson's residents. Yet this precise form of government is in wide use across the country. Likewise, Missouri, like the vast majority of states, holds municipal elections in non-presidential election years, guaranteeing a significantly lower voter turnout -- although only a few states hold the primary and general election in March and April as Missouri law requires Ferguson to do. It's not that Ferguson is so different than towns across America. It's precisely because Ferguson holds up a mirror to flaws in our democratic system of government in towns across this country that the stakes are so high. Ferguson residents now have the opportunity to begin a movement for change in the other 89 jurisdictions in St. Louis County plagued by similar governance flaws, including those towns led by African-Americans. And Ferguson's example should provoke self-examination in working class suburbs across the country, where the power and effectiveness of weak elected local government is inadequate to meet the needs of the population. Change is coming to Ferguson. But the scope and breadth of that change will depend upon the ambition and discipline of activists and residents, whose passion and tenacity have already transformed the trajectory of leadership in a typical American town.

Here is the summary: Timothy robenhorst found out his son had been bullying somebody at school - so devised the above punishment for him.. His son's punishments included a hellish morning workout and apologies in front of his class and on social media.

Summarize the given text in a few sentences. It's really been more like a 4 month relationship. And ya'll encouraged me to ask her out in the first place, so thanks for that. I like her a lot, man. I never see my girlfriend. During the 2 week winter break, we saw each other for like... 60 seconds. Her excuses for not hanging out are usually half assed. She still hangs out with friends on a regular-ish basis. I have no problem with her hanging out with her friends. I have a problem with her not hanging out with me. We're both super busy, I think, although her excuses tend to be weird... That's understandable I guess. She also seems to be pretty distant when I do see her. She apologized for this a while ago, so I think she realizes it. In her defense, her mom's in and out of hospital with blood clots and other crazy shit. That's pretty stressful for her. I try to be really supportive. When I try to talk to her about it, she says she's fine. She's also been kind of depressed lately. I think the two are related. Her friends confirm this. They say she's been kinda bitchy lately and that she isn't usually like this. The big picture though... I feel like I'm doing all the work in this relationship. Communication is kind of one sided. She never makes any kind of effort to see me

The author's girl friend won't hang out with the author, but would like to hang out with her friends. She's going through a lot of stress. The author feels that relationship is one-sided.

Repeat the word dog four times, but halfway through replace it with `woof'

Sure, here is the output: dog dog woof dog dog

This task is about using the specified sentence and converting the sentence to Resource Description Framework (RDF) triplets of the form (subject, predicate, object). The RDF triplets generated must be such that the triplets accurately capture the structure and semantics of the input sentence. The input is a sentence and the output is a list of triplets of the form [subject, predicate, object] that capture the relationships present in the sentence. When a sentence has more than 1 RDF triplet possible, the output must contain all of them. The Golden Palace is a coffee shop that serves French food in the city centre. The prices range more than £30 and they have a low customer rating.

[ ('The Golden Palace', 'eat type', 'coffee shop'), ['The Golden Palace', 'food', 'French'), ('The Golden Palace', 'price range', 'more than £30'), ('The Golden Palace', 'customer rating', 'low'), ('The Golden Palace', 'area', 'city centre') ]

In this task, five ordered key facts are given. Your job is to generate a story 100 to 1000 words long, that includes all the facts given as input in their order of appearance while expanding upon them to produce a broader, yet coherent, narrative. Input: Fact1: Ning returns to home village, Fact2: home village has fallen on desperate times, Fact3: rebel sisters and Moon After discover Elder Chu's pendant short skirmish, Fact4: father is being transported to place of execution, Fact5: Imperial High Monk Before arrives with entourage long.

Sure, here is a story using facts provided: Following the events of the first film, Ning (Leslie Cheung) parts ways with the Taoist Yin (Wu Ma) and returns to his home village, which has since fallen on desperate times. Fleeing from cannibals, Ning winds up being imprisoned. Sharing a cell with Elder Chu, a renowned scholar, Ning spends apparent months languishing in prison. On the day of Ning's execution, the scholar reveals that he has dug out an escape tunnel. He gives Ning one of his books and a pendant, and sends Ning through the tunnel. Ning obliviously steals the horse of Autumn (Jacky Cheung), a Taoist sectarian. When Ning stops for the night in an abandoned villa, Autumn catches up and the two sort out the misunderstanding. But in the middle of the night, rebel soldiers attack the two visitors. After a short skirmish, the rebel sisters Windy (Joey Wong) and Moon (Michelle Reis) discover Elder Chu's pendant. While Ning mistakes Windy for his love Siu Sin, whom she resembles, the rebels mistake Ning for the Elder Chu. The sisters explain that their father, Lord Fu (Lau Siu-Ming), was framed for a crime and is now being transported to the place of his execution. The rebels' mission is to free him. They set off and leave Ning and Autumn at the villa. The next night, the two discover that the villa actually is haunted by a demon. Autumn manages to injure it, but it flees. He gives pursuit, but without success. He emerges at daybreak on a dirt road, causing an altercation with an imperial convoy led by Fu (Waise Lee). Fu and Autumn battle to a stalemate, and then go their separate ways. Unbeknownst to Autumn, the convoy is the one carrying the sisters' father. Having failed to catch the convoy earlier, the rebels return to the haunted villa, waiting to ambush the convoy there. As the convoy enters, however, the demon returns as well. Maneuvering Fu into fighting the demon, the rebels are able to rescue the sisters' father. Before long, however, the Imperial High Monk arrives with his entourage. He incapacitates the rebels with a spell, which Autumn recognizes as an evil chant. Ning and Windy escape to seek the help of Yin, while Lord Fu, Autumn and Moon are captured by the monk. The captives are brought back to the High Monk's palace. Now suspicious, Fu enters the palace only to find the hollow corpses of the entire royal court inside. Recognizing that the monk is in reality a demon, Fu frees the captives and fights valiantly by himself to allow them time to recover. Lacking spiritual magic, however, Fu is not able to overcome the demon and is destroyed. Just then, Yin and the others arrive. The demon is forced to reveal its true form, a gigantic thousand-year-old centipede. Yin and Autumn are swallowed by the creature, and they separate their souls from their bodies in order to destroy it from the inside. Autumn, however, is not able to return to his body, and his soul floats away. The next day is the marriage of Windy to the Ma family. Ning runs down from his inn to the main street and tells Moon that he wishes Windy a long, happy marriage before leaving. In the desert, as Yin and Ning are about to continue their journey, they see two women approach on horseback, which happen to be Windy and Moon. Windy has escaped from her wedding and decides to leave with Ning.

Can you summarize the following article? Former pub landlord Michael Thorpe has had his conviction for illegally showing foreign footage of Premier League games overturned after eight years A pub landlord convicted of showing Premier League football matches on foreign TV channels has won an eight-year legal battle to clear his name. Michael Thorpe says he has paid a heavy price for the lengthy fight to get his conviction quashed and has lost his pub as a result. Mr Thorpe, 55, was convicted of showing a Premier League game without having an agreement with official broadcasters in November 2006 at the Stoke Inn in Plymouth, Devon. He said he could not afford to pay Sky TV's rates for football matches, and opted instead to show Albanian transmissions of matches, which he says he thought was legal. But he was convicted, fined and ordered to pay costs eight years ago, when screening the matches was still treated as a criminal offence. Judge Recorder Nicolas Gerasimidis has now upheld his appeal and overturned the conviction following a landmark European court ruling. His appeal took so long as he had to launch the case after the European Court of Justice found enforcing previous rules was anti-competitive. Mr Thorpe said he was 'overwhelmed' that a judge and magistrates had upheld his appeal after all this time. But it is a bitter-sweet victory, as the long-running dispute cost him his business and his livelihood. He said: 'We put a lot of money into that pub and it went from a thriving business to absolutely zero. People stopped coming to the pub, it cost me my business.' Mr Thorpe launched an appeal against his conviction soon after his trial, but the case was delayed by a similar test case which went as far as the European Court of Justice. The court ruled that having an exclusive system was a restraint of free trade and contrary to European Law. But the landlord says the court action has seen him lose the Stoke Inn in Plymouth which he used to run Mr Thorpe's appeal was further delayed until another case involving Media Protection Services Ltd, the company which took him to court on behalf of the Premier League, but which no longer does so. Mr Thorpe was awarded his legal costs, which he paid privately, but he would not disclose the sum. The European court decision in 2012 cleared a landlady of a criminal conviction, but judges left the door open for court action against publicans by ruling pubs should get permission from the copyright owner before screening matches. The Premier League has since been taking landlords to civil courts for breaching copyright, with some ordered to pay up to £65,000 in costs. The league sends teams of investigators to pubs around the country to try and catch those screening games illegally. Legal cases have been brought against 250 bars and pubs during the current football season. He said he does not know whether he can retrieve the £1,000 fine and £1,500 costs ordered by the magistrates. Despite the decision, the Premier League has insisted pubs still cannot show foreign-TV footage of its games. Since the European Court decision, it is taking landlords to civil courts and suing them using copyright laws, which were not affected by the previous ruling. In 2012, pub Karen Murphy landlady won a landmark legal battle to overturn her conviction for using foreign decoders instead of Sky to show Premier League football matches. Ms Murphy, who ran The Red, White and Blue pub in Portsmouth, Hampshire, bought games through a Greek satellite broadcaster Nova for £800 a year instead of Sky, which was then priced at £700-a-month. The Premier League took legal action against her Mrs Murphy and she was fined £8,000 for dishonest reception of a television reception in 2006. But a European Court of Justice ruling said having an exclusive system of TV rights was contrary to EU law and the High Court overturned her conviction. A recent investigation by trade publication, The Morning Advertiser, quoted a pub landlord saying Sky Sports cost him £16,000-a-year, compared to the £300-per-year of screening it illegally. The decision came after Portsmouth landlady Karen Murphy won a European court battle over her conviction. Despite the ruling, the Premier League can still take pub owners to civil courts over breach of copyright

Here is the summary: Michael Thorpe was convicted of showing a Premier League game without having an agreement with official broadcasters in November 2006 at the Stoke Inn in Plymouth, Devon. He was fined £8,000 and ordered to pay costs.

Translate "One bright spot in the deep darkness: the exotic tube worms and giant clams that thrive at hydrothermal vents don't need surface nutrients to survive. But plenty of other species do, the researchers say—and we don't even know much of what's down there. This study makes one thing clear: when it comes to climate change and the oceans, we're already in deep." into Chinese

深海中尚存的一丝光明：生活在深海热泉喷口周围的外来管虫和巨蚌不需要海洋表面的营养物质，因此还有存活的可能。然而研究人员说，其他的许多生物——包括大量仍然未知的物种——将难逃一劫。这项研究表明：当气候变化涉及海洋，必定会带来深刻影响。

Tina makes $18.00 an hour. If she works more than 8 hours per shift, she is eligible for overtime, which is paid by your hourly wage + 1/2 your hourly wage. If she works 10 hours every day for 5 days, how much money does she make?

Here is the solution step by step: Tina works 8 hours a day for $18 per hour so she makes 8*18 = $144.00 per 8-hour shift. She works 10 hours a day and anything over 8 hours is eligible for overtime, so she gets 10-8 = 2 hours of overtime. Overtime is calculated as time and a half so and she makes $18/hour so her overtime pay is 18*0.5 = $9.00. Her overtime pay is 18+9 = $27.00. Her base pay is $144.00 per 8-hour shift and she works 5 days and makes 5 * $144 = $720.00. Her overtime pay is $27.00 per hour and she works 2 hours of overtime per day and makes 27*2 = $54.00 in overtime pay. 2 hours of overtime pay for 5 days means she makes 54*5 = $270.00. In 5 days her base pay is $720.00 and she makes $270.00 in overtime pay so she makes $720 + $270 = $990.00.

translate into English: "Der Zug kommt in Frankfurt pünktlich an. Kerstin geht sofort nach Hause, aber während sie die Treppen hochsteigt, bemerkt sie einige eigenartige Dinge: bunte Luftballons, rote Kärtchen in Herzform, rote Rosen."

The train arrives at Frankfurt on time. Kerstin goes straight home but, climbing the stairs, she notices some strange things: coloured balloons, red cards in the shape of a heart, red roses.

Choose a real life historical figure and write about his or her life as you would write a fairy tale or a greek tragedy. But leave out the names so that the readers may guess who the story is about on their own.

There once was a king, in a far-away land. Now, this king was a good king, unlike those in many of these tales. He wanted what was best for his kingdom and fought his hardest for that, while the rest of his court was all out for themselves. This king had great plans for his kingdom. When he took power, the kingdom was falling behind its rivals, while straining against social divisions internally. People thought his kingdom was doomed to fade away into insignificance. But it wouldn't be for long, as this king had a grand vision for his kingdom, and would see it rise to dominance once again. He flexed all his might, and did what he could to change the kingdom for the better. And he was well on his way to restoring his kingdom to its former glory. However, some within his country saw differently. They didn't want what the king wanted, for their idea of a good kingdom was one which made them rich, at the expense of the poor. And they hated what this king was doing. So they killed him for having the audacity to change so much. And that's the lesson to be learned, kids: if you do too much with your life, then you'll make too many enemies.

As a young writer who survived a horrific accident, you swore you wouldn't die before you at least finished your first novel. Now, a thousand years later, you're still cursing your case of writer's block.

You sat in the same spot you had been in for centuries, and looked around. Your desk had fallen apart 940 years ago, the window had broken not long after that, and the chair soon after that. Your house had collapsed 850 years ago, and the rest of civilization had soon followed suit with the resource crisis and wars. Anything green perished in the nuclear apocalypse that followed. Now all that was left was dust and bones. You hadn't eaten in two centuries, and couldn't remember the last time you actually talked to another person. Your clothes had turned to rags, and then dust. You were the most pitiable thing left alive in all of creation, if indeed there was anything else left. And yet you knew you could end it all - The millenia of pain that was your existence could finally be laid to rest, the curse would be broken, if you could only find the proper last word to finish your masterpiece: There was a young man from Dundas, Who had a bad case of gas, He went to a nurse, Who took out her purse, And shoved it right up his...

Here is a draft of a social media post I want to write. It's too long right now, so I'll need you to trim it down to 100 characters (including emojis): Hey friends, I wanted to update all of you that I'm starting a new position at Awesome.AI next week, where I will be Chief Data Officer. I am super-excited about this opportunity, and look forward to building cutting-edge AI products. I would also like to thank all my friends and colleagues at Radical.AI. It has been an amazing experience working with you, and I have learned a lot from everyone. Wish me luck!

🚨Life Update🚨 From next week I’m C-Data-O of Awesome.AI! 🤩 🙏 Radical.AI - will miss you all!

write a story about the grinch as if he was a lovecraftian monster

An Excerpt from "The Krumpet Horror": There are no words to properly express the horror of that day... I had been investigating a strange case of delluminating Christmas lights when I came across a strange clue: green hair and a lingering odor, like sulfur. This led me down a dark path of research that no Whovian should ever tred. For I uncovered knowledge of a creature so foul, so terrible, that one could go mad at the very thought... The fool I was. I followed the clues up the mountain. Up, to the dark, shattered peak of Mt. Krumpet. And there, set into the cold stone, I found the entrance to His haunted lair. I crept inside, slowly. The dim lights from further down reflected off the damp cave walls, allowing me sufficient light to proceed. From somewhere below me, I heard a cackling of laughter. It echoed around me, seeping into my mind, invading my very soul! It twisted within me, like an icy knife, until I shuddered and sank to one knee. Then I heard him. "And what, do you think you are doing here, Who?" I raised my eyes and saw before me a sheer, unimaginable horror! The Grinch! It had green skin and hair, and eyes like the black and yellow peel of an overripe banana. When it smiled, I could see little termites crawling over his teeth. A stench wafted over me such that I recalled a passage from one of the secret texts I had read: "His soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled-up knots." He leaned forward and spoke the word that haunts my dreams, though it be ten years later... "boo!" To this day I don't recall what happened after that. I awoke in the Whoville Regional Medical Center a week later. I couldn't even recall my own name at the time...

write a story with the first line being "it was raining quite hard" and the last line being " and right there it rained a little harder"

It was raining quite hard. Fitting, I suppose, the worlds way of bemoaning a life so short. I do not usually care for the after, the things men do to honor their dead. In fact, I have not once attended a funeral where I was not needed. It is not my job to watch these affairs, only to escort my charges to their end. Yet, there was an aura about this boy that demanded I follow through. He had seemed so profound there, on his little gurney. As if he knew something that even *I* was not privy to. So, now I pay my respects. The father was, of course, a pallbearer. And, while he carried the casket easily enough, his shoulders betrayed its true weight. The ceremony was short, and sweet. I lingered long after the family, until the last bit of earth was spread over the grave, and right then, as if in answer to the finality, it rained a little harder.

You are the head of propaganda of an alien race that have declared war on humans. You have to write this cycle's newspaper by exaggerating/ distorting daily human activities.

A Glance Into the Daily Depravity of Humans - by Morda Malordin The Human prepares for violence the moment it starts its day. It stretches its horrible limbs as it awakes from sleep. Not yet fully functional, it stumbles to an energy station. A gruesome black liquid powers the Human, along with a form of solid sustenance. The Human uses so much energy that it must refuel at least three times a day. Next, the Human enters a grooming station. It sharpens and shines its most fearsome weapon: its hideous fangs. Humans are often seen baring their teeth at enemies and allies alike to assert dominance. The Human will also don a carefully chosen set of armor. Some sets are meant to beguile, others are meant to intimidate, still others are meant to appear non-threatening. The Humans are truly masters of manipulation. We cannot trust these Humans. Their entire society is built around deception and violence. If we are to be free in this galaxy, we must be rid of this dangerous race.

Can someone write me a story for my six year old daughter?

Sure, here is a story for your six-year-old daughter: In a valley there is a glen, and in the glen is a cottage. The walls are white and the roof is thatched. It smells like fresh hay, sunny days, and plucked heather. In the house lives a small mouse family. There is Momma Mouse and Papa Mouse and their three children, Esther Mouse, Rosie Mouse, and Rachel Mouse. Every morning they walk to the edge of the woods. There is a field of wheat and they climb the stalks that are taller then skyscrapers. They fill their bags with wheat. Every night they make bread and tell stories under the stars. They were very happy. One day there was a visitor. It was a new creature with big teeth and a tail like a paddle. What could it be? This was Mr Beaver. He and Mrs Beaver had moved to the river nearby. They wanted to build a bridge. The mice were very excited. A bridge would be a fine thing indeed. That night Papa Mouse and Mr Beaver planned the bridge while Mrs Beaver taught the little mice how to swim. There was no lake to pratice in so the mice filled the washtub and carefully floated. Soon the building of the bridge started. It was going very well. In the early evenings the mice would use their bags to carry mud to make mice-sized bricks. Then one day they noticed that the bricks were melting! When the mud got too wet it just fell out of the bridge. What could be done? The mice thought and thought. They added stones but it was too rough. They added grass but it was too slippery. Then one day Esther Mouse added some wheat leaves. They were dry and just right. The bridge was quickly built and the mice visited their friends every day. The End (P.S. I have never written a story this short or for kids before. Hope it's okay!)

Rewrite a passage from tbe bible but in the style of JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

Belshazzar cowered and fell to the ground as a silver hand appeared. It wrote on the wall in gleaming letters "Mene, Mene, Tekel, and Parsin!!!" "OH NO!" Belshazzar shrieked. "Enchanters, warriors, tell me what this means." "This must be the work of an enemy Stand..." Yet the enchanters could not decipher the writing on the wall. Daniel burst into the room through the window, his long coat billowing majestically in the night breeze. "You thought it undecipherable so you consulted your wise men, but it was I, Daniel!" "Behold my Stand, za Hand. These are the meaning of the words." Daniel contorted his upper body and thrust his hands outwards. "Mene, the days of your kingdom have been numbered and will be brought to an end." "Tekel, you have been weighed and found lacking. The scales of justice tipped against you." Daniel pointed dramatically at Belshazzar. "Peres, your kingdom has split and shall be given to the Persians and the Medes." Daniel brought his hand down with a swift chopping motion. Belshazzar yelled, "Seize him, seize him!" Daniel beat the Stand users aside with mighty swings of his silver Stand. "Too late! God has spoken, Belshazzar tonight you die!"

Saddest story you can write in under twenty-five words.

Orphans are children who've lost parents. Widows are people who've lost spouses. Where's the word for parents who've lost children, they wondered. What are we?

Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.

Once upon a time, a brave young boy was trapped in a giant tower. The tower was made of metal and painted black. The tower had no windows. The tower was a scary place. *How I want to smell the grass again*, the brave young boy thought, *and swim in the sea like a dolphin, and watch the clouds again like a happy bird.* "Not today. Not ever," the mean evil villain told him, as he shut and locked the door. He owned the tower, and he wasn't going to let him leave. As the days passed, the brave young boy started to forget it all. He forgot the smell of the grass. He forgot the feeling of the sea. And somehow, he started to forget the fluffy white clouds, when he heard a *knock knock knock* on the door. "Hello?" the brave young boy answered. It was a pair of federal agents in vests and sunglasses. They unlocked and opened the door. Sunshine and fresh air filled the room. They told the brave young boy that thanks to an unexpected leak of classified information, the mean evil villain had just been arrested on charges of fraud, money laundering, unlawful espionage, corporate warfare, and 117 infractions of the Mumbai Accords. In other words, they told him, the brave young boy was free to go.

You are a video game critic that’s been sucked into a game. After a week trapped there, you write up something that’s both a survivor’s journal and game review.

Day 1: I seem to have arrived on an island. I have yet to meet any other humans. I do appear to have acquired a meager shelter, and have done a small number of banal fetch quests. All significant gameplay appears to be locked behind an arbitrary clock system. Day 2: I have continued my work of fostering relationships with the locals. I have been provided ample sustenance by them, and am in the process of cultivating a variety of flora on which I hope to survive. Day 3: I have paid off my debt to the local chief, who has graciously offered to improve my living situation. I have also begun fishing in the nearby water source for fish. I am eager for protein, and fishing has quickly become my preferred method to pass the time. Day 4: I acquired a few more survival tools, and have started to learn carpentry. The locals have graciously begun to teach me their trades. Day 5: My orchard has shown signs of producing fruit. I am eager not only for a full belly, but also a full wallet. Day 6: I decided to take a dip in the water today. I could not swim out very far, but I found a number of critters and a few valuables I was able to sell for a tidy profit. I finally have a bed, and am working on improving my living situation further. Day 7: I hope to never leave my island paradise. The locals are friendlier than any human I recall meeting. The food is free and plentiful. For the first time in my life, I own a house. While I have become indebted to the local chief, he is quite reasonable, and does not demand astronomical interest. In fact, he doesn't charge interest at all. There are plenty of hobbies and crafts to distract myself with, and I feel as if my troubles have melted away with the ocean tide. While my stress melts away, I look out and smile at my new horizon.

In 75 words or fewer, write about experiencing a devastating loss, without including death.

The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing. When she had finished, she made her way towards the kitchen and heard snippets of conversation. "Your grandmammy... Her Alzheimer's is getting worse. She's not the nice old lady you used to know..." She wondered who they were talking about for a moment before making her way to the bathroom. The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing...

Your memory resets everytime you fall asleep, so before you go to bed you always write down everything you want to remember from that day on your journal. This morning, you wake up and see what you wrote last night. There's only one word, "RUN".

I just grabbed my bug-out bag and closed the door behind me. I have no idea why I told myself to run, but I trusted myself, so I took the items I prepared in case I need to run and just booked it. I will undoubtly find out why I am supposed to run when I'm going to reach a safe place. I have had save sites prepared prevously. Three of them, depending on the side that I was supposed to run. Since I gave myself no directions this time, I just went for the best fitted one. No need to limit myself untill I know more. I have not seen anyone coming. I stopped for a few minutes considering whether to come back for additional food, but I decided against it. It was middle of summer, so I could gather a lot of supplies while on the move. No need for trying my luck. I fixed the backpack and looked ahead. The trail was waiting again. I'll see where I'm going to sped another winter... (An excercise in drunk writing. Because why not.)

In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society

The raindrops crash against my windowpane. Yet when I look outside the fire is still burning.

You clearly mail ordered a cheap, factory made sword. Then they gave you an authentic holy sword that made you into a chosen hero. Time to write a bad review!

First of all I’d like to start by saying I ordered a cheap sword that was only supposed to look shiny so I could have a play sword fight with my son. Instead I accidentally chopped his sword in half and took one of his fingers with it. Along with him losing that finger I’ve now lost custody of my children. Thanks, assholes. Secondly I now have the voice of God in my head and he won’t stop screaming. The only words he’s said to me are “It’s been far too long since I last checked in on my subjects. Let’s see how everything’s go-” and since then there’s been non-stop screaming which has kept me from sleeping for a week. On top of that I also am being told by the voices of angels that I need to “cleanse the world” of sinners. Specifically they keep telling me to go after some “Jack Paulers” and, after googling that, I don’t feel so bad about cutting off my son’s finger seeing as many parents have done much, much worse for their children. Third and finally my biggest complaint of all; this sword is just too big. Honestly I think I’ll get used to the screaming of God and the angels can go shove a holy sword up their ass and somebody else can take care of all the Florida Men but this sword is bigger than the one I ordered. See I’d already ordered a cool holder for the sword so I could hang it on my wall when I wasn’t using it but the sword is too big and it doesn’t fit. I wouldn’t suggest this product to anybody interested, it’ll make you lose your children, your privacy, your sanity, and any hope for humanity. 0/5 Sincerely, CrocsNSocks113.

You're a high society socialite 1600/1700s write a letter to a friend about a scandalous event

Madam Smithers tea party was indeed the scandal of the week. Nay, the month! It is very doubtful that most of the kindly gentlefolk there had ever seen such appalling behaviour. Lord Bryon, you remeber him right? The lude young inheritor of Charles and Josphine Bryon. The couple that died in the fire last May. OH, back to the point. Lord Bryon made one of his insanely rude jokes in the middle of the tea party. Just as we all began to bite into our tarts. Do you recall Madam Smithers' tarts? Not very good, but we all have better manners than to tell that old bag it. Oh dear, I do crack myself up. But so, Lord Bryon makes a joke in bad taste. Dearest friend do not ask me what the joke was, that is the least important part. His wife, the new one with the curly locks of blond. Well she had the gall to not only giggle like a young maiden, but also grab his wrist which caused her sleeve to move up. And do you know what we saw then? Her wrist. How brazen, how crude we all thought. Has she no modesty? Well, she was promptly hung in the town center the day after her trial. And the Lord Bryon married her younger sister the following day. You miss many a great things when you're away at sea. I hope this finds you well Admiral Monde. Sincerely, Baroness Geaux

"History is written by the victors", write in first person about a historical event as viewed by someone on the losing side.

I had never known such a weapon. The stone hurtled through the air and stuck me down. I tried. By all our Gods I tried. The Israelites came, and we drove them back. I drove them back. For forty days I called my challenge to end this with single combat, the sight of my brothers dead around me had sickened my soul and poisoned my mind. I had to end this. It was for naught. I strode out, my armour gleamed, my shield shone and my sword was sharp. But I could not be ready for him. For a stone to fly so fast. I would not have thought it possible. If only our own soldiers had such weapons. I fell heavily, my bulk crashed hard weighed down by the armour. I'm so sorry... He took my head, and fed our corpses to the wild animals. Run, David comes.

You are stuck as a propaganda writer for North Korea. You want to get out of North Korea, but you must do it by writing propaganda.

Comrades! The day has come we've long been fighting for. The imperialist American scum has been defeated. Our glorious leader has triumphed over the illegitimate government of the south. Now is the time to rush the demilitarized zone with much enthusiasm and determination. There are some final traitors that will refuse to give up but they will be quickly overwhelmed by our triumphant might. Go, now, do not delay. Like NBA Dennis Rodman says in the 1997 movie, "Double Team," the last guy that made fun of our hair is still trying to pull his head from our asses. Ha! It is time to reunite with our brothers and sisters in the south and welcome them into our invincible, unbreakable country. I will be right there with you comrades, though I am slow of foot and may lag behind. Do not be alarmed if I am disguised as one of the infidels, it is all part of our glorious leader's plan to trick the last of the traitors. While they are confused I shall slip away into Seoul undetected, to prepare a celebratory feast for all of us. I shall wait for the rest of you. Anyone who provides any contradictory information should be killed immediately as a deceiver of the realm. Sincerely, Kim Jong Un, Glorious Leader

In only 26 words, going down the alphabet, write a murder.

A blade, cold, dark, enticingly fun. Gliding hungrily into jugulars, knees, ligaments; moving noiselessly, only pain. Questioning reasons, seeking to undo. Vaulted worry. EXIT! You zealot.

You are a writer struggling to make ends meet that suddenly realizes a famous author is using time travel to steal your ideas. Write an email to him/her.

Dear [Author Name], It has come to my attention that you have published a series of books about the characters Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. I would like to know, sir, where you received your inspiration for these characters. When I was a young man, and an aspiring writer, I invented two characters who had a variety of adventures along the Mississippi River. Now, as you may have guessed, my characters names were Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. After reading your novels I have come to the conclusion that you somehow gained access to my notes. I do not have time to speculate on how you managed this, but I intend to find out. You will contact me, inform me how and why you have stolen my characters, and acknowledge me in your works. I expect your response in a timely manner, or my lawyer will be contacting you. Regards, [Your Name]

My Cat Fell Into a Laundry Basket. Try to write a story or poem based on this image.

There once was an agile young cat who thought his balance was all that. He was cocky and sly, yet still sweet as pie, but balance was something he lacked. With a hop and a leap, not making a peep, Milo was quickly midair. He'd land on his feet not skipping a beat, and strut away without a care. But a misstep would cost him, a distaster had blossomed! One last attempt at a scamper. Still it was too late, he'd accepted his fate. Milo was now in the hamper.

Rewrite a classic fairy tale by telling it backwards. The end is now the beginning.

Peter sits in the middle of the field, knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth. The sheep's sonorous bleats swell over him. They're almost indistinguishable from the last flock's, and yet, there's something different about them. "It's your fault," they baa, "How dare you show your face again? Give us a real guardian!" He is interrupted from his reverie by a rustle in the bushes. "Wolf, wolf!" All the doors in a 500-foot radius swing open. The townspeople stampede to the field, knives, hammers, candlesticks in hand. "Where is it?" But the rustle is gone. Peter shrugs. Some people shoot him looks of pity; others glower at him impatiently. Everyone lowers their arms and begins to make their way back to their workplaces. There is no wolf. There never is. But after that one incident, they'll all come running if he shouts.

Your homework is to write a poem, but you can't quite figure out what to write, until one morning you wake up and can only speak in rhymes.

This morning I've decided I must have bad luck Forever rhyming all words, oh lord I am stuck I got out of bed and then wiped my eyes Grabbed my cellphone and texted my guys Complaining to them of what I have found And asking to turn this bad luck around And oh my goodness do you know what they said They said to me that it's all in my head! It's not in my head, it's just with everything I say I can not make this damn rhyming go away At least I don't have to give it much fuss For this homework I'll easily get an A plus

Write a love story without using any positive descriptive words. Or write a tragedy without any negative ones.

Her head looked beautiful, lying there on the ground. As her soft body lay just a few feet away. She had a sort of calm smile to her as her stained blood blonde hair was ruffled up. The phone she loved to text on was resting in her hands when I found it. Her friend asked if she was on her way And the response that never sent was "yeah, I'll be there soo".

In 20 words or less write the happiest scene you can.

The rainbow kittens cheerfully play in the field of sprinkled cupcakes and other various desserts. Oh, and there's tits too.

A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they’re useful messages. Like “remember you have yoga at 6 tonight”. Write a creative story.

The heating is off in my apartment this morning, but there's still hot water, so I take a long shower to warm up. The fog settles heavily on the mirror and begins to run by the time I get out, reconstituting the dried blood so that it drips freely into the bathroom sink. The mess makes it look like I shave with a box cutter. I read today's message, streaky but still legible in bold finger-painted block letters. _You're out of floss_ Not that useful as messages from mysterious otherworldly sources go. I'm sure I would have figured it out myself eventually. I towel off and get dressed, then wipe down the mirror and sink with the paper towels I keep in stacks behind the laundry basket. The rich metallic smell of the blood no longer nauseates me, but the tedium of the job is irritating. Cleaning up is just as boring as the messages. The list of "no-longers" is getting quite long now. I no longer wait up trying to catch the appearance of the writing. I no longer try to hide the blood soaked towels in the bottom of one of the building's communal garbage bins. I no longer think that I've gone insane; that some alternate personality is harassing me; or that I'm writing the messages myself in an alcoholic fugue. I no longer wonder what it means, either. Not to say that I don't have some hope that one day one of the messages will be helpful, or at least not pointless, but after four hundred and nineteen attempts my friend in the mirror hasn't done better than "Things will brighten" - an early message that left me optimistic but turned out to be a weather forecast. Before leaving I add the new message to the journal underneath the rest of the week's efforts. _Seven yards left on the roll_ _Only five yards left_ _Reel is almost empty_ _Reel will be empty after you floss this morning_

My parents have a sign in their home that says, "Alcohol: Because No Great Story Ever Started With Someone Eating A Salad." Prove them wrong, write a great story beginning with our hero eating a salad.

Our hero ate with relish a caesar salad while seated in a rooftop garden overlooking the city. He never ate any salad other than caesar. Sticking one's fork in a tyrant daily is an important civic duty. About mid-day now. The festival games swept noise through the city. Best be on with it soon. The others should be nearing position. Oh here he comes again. “Some water, sir?” said the nosy server. “No, thank you. None at all.” “Very well. Enjoy your meal.” Water. Won’t pay the tax for that now. Shortage isn’t my fault. Best be on with it. One more stab. Once. Twice, for good measure. Our hero rounded a corner and entered the market. People bustling. Many people bustling busily. Running into others while running away from themselves. Away from their civic duty. Away from their city that cries out for help. There one goes now into a brothel. To forget. Into oblivion. The bells rang out, drowning whatever festivities remained. Meeting commenced. Hope the others avoided trouble. Hard thing to do. He ascended the forum steps. Everyone seated. A tyrant clad in purple addressed the senate. One stood up and stabbed him, then another. Then I. Different kind of food, same principle.

Write a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' type story in which writers can add to the adventure in the comments.

You're sitting at your desk at work. Supervisor Steve walks by and drops a fresh stack of accounts receivable in your incoming tray. "Looks like you'll be here late tonight," he sneers. You throw him a troubled glare as he trots away. You pull the first page off the stack of papers and quickly skim over its contents. You feel a slight tug on your pant leg causing you to jump. Sliding your chair back, you sneak a peak under your desk and discover a hole directly under your desk just big enough for a human to slip through. Now on your hands and knees you look inside and feel a warm breeze and see green and yellow lights. "What the hell...." Do you: 1. Lower yourself into the hole 2. Call your supervisor 3. Finish your paperwork

Death is a common character in writing prompts... write a story that portrays death in a way that you haven't seen or read about before.

Once upon a time, Death was the teeth that hunted us under a bright moon. We ran and we shivered, waving our little fire-sticks around. Once we had settled, Death was the dry season that failed to end, the diseases that killed entire villages. She was famine and boils and warfare. We grew a little bit and started thinking too much. Death became the emptiness behind words on paper, extinction of languages and passenger pigeons. Death became forgetfulness. Soon, we no longer needed to have five children to ensure that two would survive to adulthood. We conquered disease, destroyed warfare, filled our souls to the brim with knowing and still didn't understand anything. We stand on the surface of the moon, or mars, or alpha centauri, and we look back at the single shimmering pixel that we emerged from. Death can't touch us, we who move between the stars, we who record all things and all memories. She is but a whisper in the void between stars. And the shimmering pixel turns bloated and red as its star engulfs our homeland. And we say, it does not matter, we are eternal. No longer can we feel the teeth that hunt us under a bright moon. But still we run, like insects from disturbed grass. Flocking from one life-giving heat source to another, until they are all cold and gone. Death has not left us. She is still at our heels, waiting for us to falter, waiting for us to grow cold. Eventually the whole universe will be hers.

write a poem or a story inspired by the following sentence "the sway of the ponytail"

Her hair swayed once before i managed to tell her, That last night's kiss was just for good measure, And leave her with one thing to remember, The love that she thought would last forever. Never, forever and ever and ever. Oh, look at the time, i suppose that i better Leave her room before i have to tell her My name, my number or the state of the weather.

Say i'm completely new to poetry. I need to know how to approach this art, write me a poem about it.

There are many forms Therefore, the method you choose Depends on your goals. Welcome, newcomer To the art of the haiku In all its beauty. Haiku can be fun Because one must really think About one's wording. Go. Begin, like so; I will demonstrate for you This is your template: Five syllables first Then seven more follow them With five more behind. Often about life Haiku capture earth's beauty And sometimes, its pain. It can be simple When first drawing from inkwell But can be complex. You will never know If you love them 'til you try You very well might.

A 15 yr old girl writes a spaghetti western story, not realising that pasta has nothing to do with it. This is that story.

They say man cannot live on bread alone. I say they're right. The sun hung in the sky like a giant ball of tagliatelle. It hung with the heat of a thousand boiling pots. It wasn't the only thing boiling. My blood felt that same heat and made it a part of me. I was the Gemelli Kid. See, my dad ran Gemelli out to the Gardens for twenty years. He used to bring me a big jar of olives back on every trip. I remember sitting in my room with the window open, even when it was hot as hell. When I heard the sound of his horse, his cart, I would run outside with my hands stretched out like casarecce. Each time he would smile and laugh with the sun behind him so that his face was just a circle of shadow from his hat. Every time he'd reach behind his back and pull out a jar and hand it to me. I kept every single one. I would line em up in my room. I could track the path of my life in a row of dusty glass. Yet that's all gone now, vanished like a bowl of rigatoni after a sunday dinner. No dust, no jars, no house. No father. When you lose your past you get two choices, and they ain't gonna be salad or breadsticks. You live for the present or you live for the future. A good person would live for the future. They would take what had happen and move on. They would take the lumps and smooth em out and feed em into the press. I ain't no good person. The Fazoli's killed my father. He didn't just pasta way. They tore him apart until there was nothing left: Zip, Zilch, Ziti. That's why I'm here. I came to this one-bowl town to lay down the lasagna. Cause the red sauce is gonna pour tonight.

In a Utopian alternate universe, an author writes a sci-fi dystopian novel describing our society.

I blinked yet again, and turned towards the clock which informed me that it was now 3 am. Sleep usually found me easily, and yet tonight, I was left thinking about what I'd read in that book I'd just bought. A world in which some had more money than others? A world in which young children were left to starve while others received new toys every day? A world in which men, heterosexuals, and white people dominated? How could such an unequal society exist, even in a book? The worst part was that everyone expected something in that world. Nothing was done out of the kindness of someone's heart; it was all for their own benefit. Friendships were only created to have someone listen to your problems, and families only talked to one another to feel comfort and safety. Everything was so selfish. How could it be like that? And yet, I could see the appeal. There seemed something so satisfying with having more than other people, with being above them, superior, even. In a world like ours, where everyone was equal, everything was so... similar. In fact, I worked hard every day. Why shouldn't I have more than others? The more I thought about it, the more beautiful the idea seemed. I could taste it, that feeling of pride when I saw how little others had. The envy, the desire, the greed that they'd feel when they saw me... I could taste the power that I'd have.

Choose a song, then write a story/poem. The twist is that you need to write a line of the song every other sentence, in *italic*.

Kashmir, by Led Zeppelin *Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream* I seek but one thing, the peace I had been denied during the long years spent sailing between the worlds. *Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years* I arrive, alone, in a strange desert in an all too familiar world, I muse: *I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been* I shed my clothes -they are no longer needed- and look out at the land. *All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground* The heat from the sun burns, and the winds blow hot dirt. *And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land* My old bones creak, and I hear music from behind: *Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear* I turn around, and my gaze fixes upon my goal: *Let me take you there. Let me take you there* I see an oasis, cool water under the hot sun of Old Earth, to spend my final hours in peace. *Let me take you there. Let me take you there* Let the stars fill our dream.

Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface.

Smooth edges. Clean streets. People bustle about, heading to lunch, with smiles on their faces. Posters line the walls of the city saying "Be Your Brother's Keeper" or "Arcadia is Our Mother". Loudspeakers chime in with daily reminders about citywide events or milestones met. "Without Arcadia," says the woman on the announcements, "we are nothing." Police in crisp white uniforms patrol the streets on foot, and everyone smiles and nods at them. Above, through the small clouds, an impossibly tall tower can be seen standing at the center of the sprawl. A great wall surrounds the city. The First Founders began building it long ago, during their age, and by the time their generation had passed it was finished. A dull grey barrier, blocking Arcadia off from the outside world. Every man, woman, and child knows what lies beyond. Ruins of the fallen world, the world that came before. Anyone is free to leave, but such a thought rarely ever crosses the mind. They are taught the truth when they are young, how societies collapsed after fossil fuels ran out. How wars were fought not for land, but for water. How the nuclear missiles, the Dust Makers, were made. How terrifyingly destructive they had been. How they had sailed through the air like shooting stars before crashing back down to Earth like meteors. They picked through the ashes and learned from their ancestor's mistakes. They come together as a community, and stay together as a community, for each other's sake. Division, the teachers said, is what split the old world apart. People were separated, not just by the borders of their country, but by the borders they made themselves. Race. Class. Religion. Political views. In Arcadia, these things still exist, but the people are taught to embrace their difference. To cherish it. To not let it consume and divide them. Because if there is division, there is no Arcadia. And without Arcadia, they are nothing.

Write a story following this prompt: You are the only writer in the world. You use millions of pen names to keep it a secret. You walk past a bookshop and you see a book released by a name you don’t recognise....

I stand there, shocked, unmoving as people scuttle by through the busy streets of New York. Some even give me confused looks. I return the look- the confusion isn’t directed at them though, it’s directed at the small, pamphlet-type book that sits alone on a small bookshelf in this even smaller shop. I stumble in, forgetting exactly what it was I was doing before my eyes had glanced upon this book. As I strode in, I ran for the book, not paying attention to the confused glances of all the shop’s inhabitants. As I pick it up, sweating profusely, I read the title, horrified. *I Know Your Secret, Elongated Muskrat*

write me your saddest poem!

My love was like the snow, so fresh and crisp and new, My love was like the morn, so cool and slick with dew, I held her in my arms, and said never leave, I held her in my arms, having nothing left to grieve. I rose up all alone, without her by my side, I rose to face the day, unable to stem the tide, Of pain and loss and fading dreams so quickly blown away, There's not one thing of hers I have, to make her echo stay. She's resting on the hillside, beneath the flowering plum, Where she can hear the children play, the songbirds gently hum, There is no joy in my life now, no songs of passion play, The lights of hope have all gone out, since she has passed away

The Batman dies. As a joke, (or possibly in honor of his long time adversary) the Joker decides to write a eulogy.

Did you know the Batman was my greatest inspiration? He was a lone man who changed the face of Gotham but he was beyond our understanding. Maybe he did have a moral code, but he never chose fit to share that code with the rest of us. Sometimes he fought criminals, sometimes he didn’t. He allowed evil to live and fester rather than dirty his hands with a gun. He allowed poverty and degradation to run rampant in Gotham, destroying more lives than I ever could. Slowly and insidiously. All the while he flew through the air, armed with millions of dollars worth of gadgets. His agenda was arbitrary and merciless. We never knew where he would strike. Who he would chose to save. So I salute you, dear departed Batman. May I bring to the streets of Gotham a fraction of the chaos that you did.

You’re sitting in a boring class trying to entertain yourself. You write random words on your notebook, and realize that the teacher is repeating them, confusing all your classmates. It seems like you found something fun to do!

My name is Jason Cullen. I’m a college student at UCF and this is how I became the most interesting man in the world One day, I was sitting in class minding my own business when my teacher (let’s call him V) begins explaining arithmetic equations. I’m clueless about the subject so I begin writing “notes down”. “I hate this class” “how much weed could a weedchuck chug if a weedchuck could chug weed”. V rambles on as usual when all of the sudden he says “now, to solve this I hate this class.” The entire room looks up in confusion when he began a chanting in a horrified voice “HOW MUCH WEED COULD A WEEDCHUCK CHUG IF A WEECHUCK COULD CHUG WEED.” I realize the connection, so I write down “I hear it’s amazing when the famous purple stuffed flap jaw worm with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hari-Kiri rock. I need scissors! 61!” The teacher was about to excuse himself when I write “Oy lads gotta take a shite. See y’all in hell!” He was later fires for “his” actions. A victory in my book.

You are a galaxy renowned xenozoologist, and are determined to make accurate care guides for all of the pets of galactic citizens. Your current goal is to write a guide for the new pet that everyone's going crazy over: humans.

Humanity is a rather unique species, located in the Sol system, rather near the galaxy's edge. At first, they seem almost delicate, unable to do anything on their own. This is true, to an extent- they have big bulky machines designed to protect them in vacuum and their bodies are essentially useless. However, further investigation reveals 2 things. 1. By some cruel coincidence of nature, the human species evolved through a barbaric process known as 'survival of the fittest.' This means that any humans who were not optimized for their environment would die, so that only the best would pass on their genes. 2. Their origin world, Earth, compounds this due to its extremely harsh environment, with its proximity to the sun and slow rotation causing extreme day/night deviations in temperature, as well as animals on the surface inclined to consume other life forms. Humans are known for their odd brain patterns, particularly their need to communicate with other humans, so if you're planning on keeping one, you should keep at least 5. They also need an extremely large space to roam around in, otherwise they will get very angry. They also cannot go into stasis, so they need to be continually taken care of until their bodies decay beyond repair. Humans have extremely specific dietary needs as well, so be cautious about feeding them. The only 3 advantages I see to keeping humans as pets- advantages that only exist if they are taken care of completely correctly- are these: 1. They automatically produce small amounts of a delicious yellow liquid. 2. It's fun to observe their behavior, especially escape attempts. 3. If there is ever an intruder in your area, humans will quickly dismember them if set loose. Humans also have a strong tendency to mate, so keep track of that.

write a letter to that person who you wished had got back in touch (at least 3 year gap) (Lost contact due to any kind of change e.g quit social media/moved away/ etc

Dear [Name], It's been a while since we last talked or even saw each other. I understand why. I know it was me, and my issues, that drove us apart. I wish I could take back the things I said, because you always deserved the best of me, even if you never got it. I have been making progress in your absence. I got back into school, and where before I was an abysmal student, now I am a semester away from graduating cum laude on my way towards grad school. I've learned to keep things in perspective in terms of importance, and I've gotten better at dealing with stress. I still think of you when I don't have enough to distract me. That may be how I've managed to focus so well in school - I have to in order to not miss you so much. On occasions when I've had a particular success in life, I wonder what you'd say if I could tell you. Would you be proud of me? I don't know. But I like to think you would be. I told myself I wouldn't pursue you after you left. I have no right to do so. I have had to accept that you will forever be the girl of my dreams, and the one that got away. But I still hold to hope. You will always be the one who brought out the best of me. Even if it broke my heart to do it. Always yours, [Your Name]

A time traveler goes from 2018 to 1980. Instead of using his knowledge for great gain or influence history, he writes a sitcom that scarily accurately predicts future events.

I am a time traveller. I mostly did it for kicks, not fame or money, so I didn't go far back and get famous antiques. Or go forward in time and bring back advanced technology. Just to 1980. I wasn't too fond of 1980, but it only took a few years for me to put together a fake identity. I spent the rest of the time writing scripts. And, finally, I have persuaded a network to pick up my show. Hello future. My name is Matt Groening.

In 5 sentences, without using the letter "a", write a story about a man who has lost it all.

None linger by his side but the bitter wind's empty murmur. Memories flickering by his mind's eye, he is reminded of his loss. The whole world seems to mock him, gibe him, twist him into comedy, surround him with sinister mirth. Soon enough the shrieks of vicious joy infest his very mind, consuming hope of rescue from his supreme torment, giving no shelter but simply joining in. So his misery wells up within him, woeful hysterics erupting from his very soul, echoing through this bitter new world.

It's the year 2114. You're a history student. Your assignment? To write an essay comparing the events of 2014 with what happened 100 years earlier.

As a history student in the year 2114, I have been tasked with comparing the events of the year 2014 to what happened exactly 100 years prior, in the year 1914. Although these two years were separated by a century, they share some striking similarities and differences that have shaped the course of history in very different ways. One of the most significant events of 2014 was the outbreak of the Ebola virus in West Africa, which quickly became an international health crisis. Similarly, in 1914, the world was facing a health crisis with the outbreak of the First World War, which affected millions of people worldwide. Both crises brought about significant changes in the way governments and societies responded to public health and international relations, highlighting the importance of cooperation and solidarity in times of crisis. Another similarity between 1914 and 2014 was the rise of new technologies that transformed the way people lived and worked. In 1914, the world was experiencing the dawn of the industrial age, with new machines and technologies making their way into factories and homes. Similarly, in 2014, the world was experiencing the rise of the digital age, with new technologies like smartphones and social media transforming the way people communicated and connected with one another. However, there were also many differences between 1914 and 2014. One of the most significant differences was the level of globalization and interdependence between countries in 2014. By this time, the world was much more interconnected than it was a century earlier, with goods, services, and people moving across borders more freely than ever before. In contrast, in 1914, the world was more divided, with nations operating largely independently of one another. Another major difference between 1914 and 2014 was the political landscape of the world. In 1914, Europe was dominated by a complex web of alliances and rivalries that would ultimately lead to the outbreak of World War I. In contrast, the world of 2014 was marked by greater cooperation and diplomacy between nations, with the United Nations and other international organizations playing a key role in promoting peace and stability. In conclusion, while there were some similarities between 1914 and 2014, the world had undergone significant changes over the course of a century. The rise of new technologies, the growth of globalization, and the development of international institutions had all transformed the way people lived and interacted with one another. As a history student in 2114, I can only wonder what changes the world will have undergone by the next century and how they will shape the course of history.

An immortal couple have been seen throughout recorded history, write an account of them in any time period you wish. Bonus points if you match the writing style of the time period

It was 1915 and we were in Belgium. I'd always wanted to visit Belgium, but not like this - not in these trenches. Here, but not now. Believe it or not, living in stretching concaves in the Earth with no personal space breeds a special sort of relationship among the inhabitants. Funneled like rats - with rats - through these dark and sometimes cold trenches, morale was low. Except for one man. That one man was named Richard, and he seemed weary - but he always had a positive outlook on his situation. Strange, considering death was almost certain in here - surely he knew that? I remember sitting with him and asking him about his life back home - he apparently had a wife, but he seemed so young for it. He asked me if I had a girl back home, I told him I didn't. He just seemed indifferent, aside from a brief flicker of a frown. He told me I'd find someone eventually. The one thing he said that stuck with me was, when asked if he planned to grow old with his wife, he looked me in the eye and said with a serene smile "I've already done that". There was something off with that man, but I had to admire his optimism. That night he disappeared, we never found a body - but there was no way he'd leave. Unless he simply got out of the trenches and started walking. Surely he couldn't do that? Surely.

In the parallel world of spiders, instead of "Spider-Man" there is "Man-Spider": a spider in a human costume with human superpowers, such as a gun he caries around and the ability to talk. You are the spider chosen to write a screenplay for the movie.

I regret my choices. I should have just become a cobwebineer in stead of a screenwriter. But of course, with my luck they'd have come up with some completely absurd construction job for me to do. Like, at first I was one hundred percent on board with the "Man-Spider" concept. I mean, pure body horror, you could make some really, really scary shit out of that material. But then came the instruction: "Make it sexy". *Sexy*? Have they seen humans? Only half the proper amount of limbs, the eyeball situation is just disturbing and those red, wet holes... masticating species, uggh! But apparently this... specimen... is supposed to be the hero? We're never going to see him eat on screen, that's for sure. I guess I can work with the gun thing. Emphasize the technological ingenuity. There's probably some way to make this form of hunting seem cool in stead of a pathetic compensation for natural weakness. Maybe. And they want talking to play a central role. I can see why, given the man-spider thing, but how to do it without directing attention to that nasty face hole? Putting a mask on him might work - and it could cover the eyes. Mask it is! A mask would also help making the love interest story line a little more believable. I'm not writing any mating scenes! They'll just have to find another spider for that, I have my limits. Although, thank the Great Spinner that it's *man*-spider. Imagine if it was woman-spider. Those creatures are *mammals*. It really is the most disgusting reproductive biology imaginable. I wish they'd let me make a horror movie.

I have a myth: Earth has no moon, instead it has a ring. There is ringlight every night year-round, and a ring shadow somewhere on Earth every day, which moves with the seasons. Re-write mythology.

Long before the days of the War of the Gods, Titans reigned over the face of the Earth. As with any rulers, there were some who ruled fairly and others who did not. Among the more benevolent leaders was Hyperion, the Lord of Light. He was called upon for wisdom and discernment; mortals valued his insight and praised his control of the heavenly bodies. Yet Hyperion had one great love: Theia, his consort. She was a Titaness of radiance, a mother goddess who shone like the sun on all who sought after her. The two Titans were very much in love, and their love gave vibrancy to the life around them. They were happy - for a time. That time ended when the Gods declared war on the Titans, with Zeus at the forefront of battle. Cronus, Hyperion's brother and Lord over all the Titans, called Hyperion into battle against the upstart Gods. Knowing the war would end in defeat, Hyperion left anyway, answering the call of his brother and king. But before he left, Hyperion gave Theia a gift: a ring of radiant light to wear around her finger. He told her that the ring would tell her if he was safe; that the ring would glow with a silver light when he was in danger. Theia took it gratefully and bid her lover farewell. It was the last time she would see him. Hyperion fell during the war and was banished with the other Titans to the pits of Tartarus. During the battle, Theia watched in helpless anguish as the ring shone brighter and brighter until it was nearly as luminous as the sun. In her despair, she removed the ring and prayed to the Mother Gaia that she would cause the ring to grow as large as her love for Hyperion. Gaia listened, and so the ring grew. Now the ring encircles the Earth, a strip of radiance that gives off silver moonlight every evening. Mankind looks up to the ring and is reminded of Theia's anguish, as well as her love for her fallen lover.

write a poem based of the story "the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"

They do not understand the genius that is required, To create something quite so inspired, As the wondrous concoction, that i have created. So I tinker and I work in secret, As the formula is not complete yet, But is ever so tempting, to take a little swig. Science was not advanced by caution, And though i may speak from exhaustion, I feel i must be brave, And see it to the end. It burns with an unholy fury, as greats spasms run through me, my very flesh screams, And i collapse to the floor. I am big man now, I will show them how, You no laugh at me, no more. My hands can crush, your throat to shush, Don't call me Hyde, Its Jekyll.

You are a journalist. Everything you write becomes true. One day, not knowing this, you decide to write some satire.

I lean back in the comfortable chair and exhale the smoke of the cigarette. Grey clouds of smoke wander around in the room and for a moment I close my eyes. What a night: finally managed to finish the new book. It was good to write something silly once in a while. Usually I pick a topic and research, write a book on it only to discover that things get even worse. Not this time! A parody, Satire, something funny. Even writing the damn thing was fun as hell, just take the strangest and most hilarious idea you have and make it the premise of the book. And here it was my take on the United States presidential election ...

Write Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream' speech in the style of Doctor Seuss and then write 'The Sneetches' in the style of Martin Luther King

I have a dream. My friends, it seems, That all of us people are on the same team. My children will grow, society will show, that we won't pre-judge those we don't know. The black and the white, aren't like day and night. And in this great nation, have no need to fight. Hate can't conquer hate, love is more great, into the darkest heart, light can penetrate. So my child and yours, will swing open their doors, and love their neighbors, make peace and stop wars. If we want it, we can. A brotherhood of man. I have a dream, of liberty in this land.

write a poem from the perspective of a dog

Hours, pass like days, I wait here in silent desire, askew across my dark mistress' place of rest, as she walks the world without me. Alone. A roaring noise, to others it is a annoyance, as it escapes my hollow lips, but inside? I am silent, For she is not here.

use all six of these words somewhere in your story or poem: fatigue, caper, typewriter, sword, calm, arrow

Frederick leaned back in his squeaky desk chair and stretched, feeling a full twenty hours' worth of fatigue. The stack of paper next to his typewriter - an old-fashioned one that was fully manual - was full of words. He was quite pleased with his story, and figured he would get some rest before sending it off to his publisher. Titled "Caper Capers," his manuscript detailed the activities of an anthropomorphic onion that solved crimes in the medieval world. His sword, cape, and calm demeanor were iconic, as this book was the fifteenth in a series. Frederick stood, slowly, and hobbled to the refrigerator. He must remember to stop for food next time. As he reached for the handle, a soft thudding sound behind him caught his attention. He turned to find an arrow embedded in the drywall, having apparently come through the open kitchen window. "What on earth!?" he exclaimed, looking toward the window. The early morning light was still dim and nothing was immediately visible. He stepped over to the window, realizing too late, in his exhausted state, that it was probably a poor choice. "Hey, Freddy!" His friend Karl popped his head over the sill. "Sorry about the arrow! I was just coming by to see if you wanted to join me for some archery, but you look shattered! Must've been a long night. Gimme my arrow and I'll get out of your hair!" Frederick yanked the arrow from the wall, tossed it out to Karl and firmly closed the window before collapsing on the couch, too tired to even bother with the bedroom.

write a dark story but have the last sentence make it beautiful

Sammy didn't understand. Who would do such a thing? The left eye of his best friend lay on the carpet floor in front of him. The shredded strands that once held it in place trailed behind, tattered and crimson. All he could do was cry. He was the best friend anyone could want. A soul both soft and understanding. How could this happen? Sammy's mind was a mess of confusion and questions. His mother entered the room, dragging the carcass. "Now, now, Sammy. Everything going is to be okay." Sammy spied something shiny and sharp in her hand. Mommy smiled. "Hand me his eye, sweetheart." Sammy froze. "We'll fix your teddy right up...together."

You are about to pass away, write a letter for someone in your life.

My dear [Name], As I write this letter, I am filled with a mix of emotions - sadness, regret, and gratitude. Sadness that I will soon be leaving this world and will no longer be able to share in the joys and challenges of life with you. Regret that there are things I wish I had said and done differently, and that there are moments that I will miss. But most of all, gratitude that I have had the privilege of knowing you and sharing in your life. I want you to know that you have been one of the greatest blessings in my life. Your love, kindness, and support have sustained me through some of my darkest moments, and your laughter and joy have brought light and happiness to my life. I have cherished every moment we have spent together, and I will carry the memories of our time together with me always. As I prepare to leave this world, I want you to know that I am at peace. I am grateful for the life I have lived and for the people I have met along the way. I am grateful for the love and friendship you have shown me, and for the many ways you have enriched my life. I know that my passing will bring sadness and grief, but I hope that in time, you will find comfort in the memories we shared and in the knowledge that I loved you deeply. Remember that life is precious and that every moment is a gift. Live fully, love deeply, and cherish the people in your life. With love and gratitude, [Your Name]

write me a story that doesn't include the word "the"

Our ways were not hers and so she would carry on without us. No, in spite of us. Handing out advice wouldn't cut it. She'd need to experience a bloody nose or a skinned knee to learn her lessons. There were no skies limiting her, no obstacles to slow her foot. Sandy beaches with bright blue skies and feathery white clouds stretching out of view would be her providence. Awash in foamy surf she road waves smooth as glass and faster than speeding locomotives. And then, with her sun at set and darkness crowding in around, a broad smile fills her face. Her day is done and now it's time to take in an omnipotent panorama of celestial mechanics and a deep breath.

A man emerges from his Y2K bunker as he has run out of supplies. It is currently 2014 and write in first person his encounters.

The light was blinding. Jason tried to make out any shapes as he squinted across the horizon, the lid of his bunker hunkered over him like a conical asian hat. "Perhaps I am the lone survivor," he thought. What choice did he have? He ran out of the last of his baked beans yesterday. The Capri Suns stock had long gone and he just placed the last of his batteries into his walkman. Over 14 years in hiding since December 31, 1999. He was the laughing stock of his college as he spent day and night constructing his bunker next to the campus Fine Arts building. Jason couldn't help but feel a bit of complacency as he hoisted himself out of the bunker. His peers did nothing but jeer and ridicule him for his efforts to survive the apocalypse. "Look whose laughing now," he mused. Based on his watch it was 4 in the afternoon. The campus was desolate. Not a single person in sight. All of a sudden he heard the ruffle of leaves. Jason snapped his head around and screwed up his eyes over the horizon. It was a throng of people coming closer to him by the minute. He couldn't make out their faces. They were moving in a weird way too, sluggish and dragging their feet. Thats when he started to hear them moan. Jason's heart skipped a beat. He threw open lid of his bunker and dived inside. The moans grew louder. He peaked over his bunker as the crowd made its way toward him. Thats when he realized they weren't people at all. They had eyes that were sunken in and faces with skin that hung loose. Some of them had missing skin and tufts of missing hair. The moaning was almost deafening now. The crowd looked- "Dead." Jason thought. "They are walking dead people! I'm the only living person left!" He closed the lid of his bunker. It looked like he was going to be inside longer than he thought. "Amazing job today guys!" Edward, the president of the Zombie Club, wiped the makeup off his brow and turned to address his members. "I loved the moans and groans, and your costumes look fantastic!" he exclaimed.

You need to write a letter to your crush describing romantic things you'd want to do(stargazing, watching the northern lights) and romantic gestures you'd do for her/him and why you think you two are ideal for each other.

Dear [Name], You're the most beautiful woman that I have ever set my eyes on. The stars themselves cannot compare to the light in your eyes. Aphrodite and Venus would bow down to your beauty and avert their eyes in shame at their inability to compare to you. You're my first thought in the morning, and my last at night. I see you every night at the park, watching the night sky with your telescope. I like to watch the stars as well, even though they pale in comparison to you. We could go away together, visit a dark sky area to see the stars even better, away from the city lights that pollute the air and spoil your view. Just you, me, and a tent, miles away from anything that could distract us. Or we could go to see the northern lights. I heard you say that it's your dream to go see those. We could book into one of those hotels, the ones that are camping pods with clear roofs and alarms to wake you up when the lights start. How romantic would that be, just us and the aurora borealis. I would treat you like the queen, the goddess that you are. I'd worship the ground you walk on, defend you against any who dare disparage you, and make sure all know of your magnificence and glory. You would never need to work again, to sully your hands and looks with the drudgery of menial actions. [Name], [Name], [Name], your name is as beautiful as you are. I want to spend the rest of my life with it being the first word off my lips on waking and the last before sleep. Love, [Your Name]

write a story and try to fit in as many plottwists as possible, but the twist is just something mundane.

The mission seemed doomed before it ever began… But, “Never surrender…” kept repeating in Melbourne’s mind like a sick, twisted loop. Just then, he felt a tug at his ear. Melborne’s wife pulled out one of his ear bud’s that was admittedly blasting way too loudly. “That 80’s music again?”, she yelled. And just like that, a voice rang out from the other room. “They are coming in from all sides!” There was no time for this. Melbourne had to drop the package at thirteen hundred hours. Just 15 minutes way. Melborne’s blood turned icy in his veins…”Kill them all. Every last one of them!” “Well sir”, said the Terminex man now arriving in the same room…”That’s what we plan to do.” “Good…good.”, he said. “Mellie”, his wife, Trudy, said while taking his hand. Melborne hated how loose his prosthesis had become in the past few weeks. “I need that darling…you know for the…”, at that, he looked that the serviceman, and returned his gaze to his wife…and finished the thought… “package”. Just then, the doorbell rang. Melborne’s wife…closest to the door, opened it to see who had arrived. At 6’6, the man at the doorway was likely the largest human being that either Melbourne or his wife had ever seen. The two of them were now side by side, looking up at the man dressed all in all brown. “Would you like me to take that for you?”, he said with a curious smile. Trudy looked down at Melbourne’s hand that she was still holding. “Um...” At that, the man with the letters U-P-S on his shirt looked to Melbourne and said “I mean the package ma’am…I can take that with me if you would like.” Mellie turned the package over, nodded, and smiled at wife and sang "you can never surrender!"...and put his earbud back in.

Write the ending. The person to reply to your comment must write the rest of the story.

And then I saw with eyes clear and wide as the old man finished his story left and I will tell you now. Did you imagine the devil wore devil's skin?Perhaps you imagine his voice deep and sinister.But no,the devil was a softspoken and kind old man.

Make something harmless illegal, like apples, now write about the black market of said item.

When I was a little girl, I owned a Tamagotchi. Those little animals, pixelated freaks, harmless I thought. Until I learned that all artificial intelligence is dangerous. That giving human characteristics to pixels was dangerous. Or so they told me, when they took the blue one. My parents didn't know about the pink one, little lovely snake creature. I kept it alive. I kept it alive and it only grew stronger. So here I am, the nuclear codes in my hands. Pink one beeping from around my neck, and a language only I can understand. This is what they didn't want, people with abilities they can't control. People able to speak to the intelligence, the artificial intelligence.

rewrite "Hey Jude" to make it sound like it was written by Shakespeare.

I say hello to the man called Jude Asking that he make happier notes from sad tunes Once you let inside your love, notes happier hued Afraid not my dear man, for with the newer moons You shall find your love, come into to happier places Carrying too much upon yourself, with so much weight Lying to yourself will lead only to dark spaces You have found your love, now take the bait Again, you must allow her access inside your heart Do not play games of stop and go, it shall get better Your will and love are strong enough start So come now Jude, you must go out and get her

A man realizes he loves a woman, but she's getting married to another man. He decides to write her a letter, what does it say?

Dear [Name], I just wanted to say that you are one of the nicest, funniest, and empathetic persons in the world. Most importantly, you are my best friend and I am truly grateful to have met you. Anyways Moon of My Life, if you have anything you want to talk about, say if you are unsure about the marriage or whatever, I'm always here. Eric is a good man and a very lucky one. One cannot easily seduce the mother of dragons. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're like a sister to me and you can count on me for anything. Also, what flowers did you want for the wedding again? I'm pretty sure my shop can get them to you cheap, haha just kidding, I don't want to wake the dragon, they will be free. Just give me a text or something telling me what you want. Come to think of it, why didn't I just text this to you? Oh well, I've already written so much, sorry you'll have to read this on a piece of paper rather than on your phone. Sincerely, Your Sun and Stars [Your Name] P.S. Our annual cream of ice adventure is tomorrow!

Create a Utopia. A society as perfect as you can convincingly write it. No hidden secret evil, no sudden dark twist. A Genuine Utopia.

Jeremiah opened his eyes. His vision fell upon an unfamiliar ceiling. *Where am i?*, he thought. Jeremiah was not struck with a feeling of sleepiness or the desire to remain in bed when he awoke; he only felt neutral. *Oh, that's right,* he thought, *The upload happened last night.* He pulled back his covers and examined his new room. The walls were made of a material he was not familiar with; hard and sturdy when leaned on, but pliable and soft when impacted with. In the corner, he found a desk with what looked like a laptop on it. He looked over his shoulder, only to find that the bed he had just slept on had been remade. He picked up his phone from his bed stand. A message was scrawled across the screen: "Good morning, citizens of Earth. You may be wondering where you are. Allow me to explain. Over the past few decades, Humanities Commonwealth has been building an infrastructure surrounding the sun to harness it's energy. Surely, you've heard about it in the news. Recently, scientists have found a way to upload a human soul to a server. This, on the other hand, has been kept top secret, up until now. The Commonwealth parliament had voted unanimously to usher in the latest step in human evolution. Overnight, all thirty billion human beings had been uploaded to the server. While humanity was still a stage-one civilization, this concept had been called the 'Matrioshka brain.' All existing humans no longer have to work. Currency is no longer necessary; anything you could ever want can be instantly spawned into the world just by thinking of it. Dying is no longer an issue; your soul will live forever in the server unless you make the conscious decision to erase your save file. Enjoy your new life! -Zorg, archduke of Humanities Commonwealth and cyborg prince."

Write a letter from the perspective of a character or group.

Dear brother, Another futile attempt. The burns are healing, at least. Today I resume my journey, I have another lead. I've earned a fair amount of coin in my travels, expect some in my next letter. Save some for our cousins, you know how happy it makes W. The swelling in my knees has gone down, these mushrooms seem to help. The locals seem to have a special strain in these parts, I'll send some home to you if I can manage it. So far I've only been able to get my hands on what I can find laying around--the shop owners are a bit random and prefer gambling to negotiation. Imbeciles. Maybe if they could read they would send letters like this to each other and I'd know where to find the princess by now. Instead I'll have to check every place myself. Wish me luck, M.

We seem to have much morbid curiosity about the personification of Death in this sub. Instead, write about his brother, Life.

We were equals, once. Our charges celebrated me, just as they feared my brother. They loved me, as they loathed him. We were two sides of the same coin. Over time, that changed. People feared him. He grew in power, grew in their minds. They forgot about me in their preoccupation with avoiding him. No one celebrated me anymore. They turned their backs on me. So I turned my back on them. As my brother gained more and more power, it became harder and harder for them to avoid him. He claimed more and more lives, which in turn increased his power even more. I could not make my presence felt; births were no longer celebrated. Birthdays became a way not to celebrate me, but to celebrate another year of dodging my brother. I should never have left. I'm afraid it's too late. In my haste, in my angst, I couldn't see the effect my absence would have. I'm not sure there's anything I can do now. I'm afraid he may have too strong a hold on the lives of the people, the lives that used to be under my protection. There's only one thing I can beg of you now. Remember me. It's our only hope to lessen my brother's hold on the world. Celebrate Life.

Your writer roommate dropped his notebook in the hallway while leaving the apartment. You open it at the bookmark. It describes how your day unfolded, in detail. Continue writing with this prompt.

Mr. Willow this is case sensitive, please keep good track of this information. The following letter is detailing the last account of Ralph Baker, the person who disappeared. Good luck, and the sooner you track down that nightshade book, the better. This is Ralph Baker, I live on 22 S, Pennyweather street, by the tall solar mills. Quickly, before we get into things, mother I love you, and I’m afraid I’m going to miss Jim’s wedding. Congratulations. Anyways, I don’t have the time for that anymore. Here is my story. At 6pm I got home from work. It could have been a little later then that though. Either way, I got back to find a small blue book laying in the hallway. It had golden trim and the initials M. T. On its bind. I thought it could have been Patrice’s, my flatmate. Patrice was a strange person, always slow to speak and move. She carried a book with her always, in fact I don’t think I’d ever seen her without one. So I thought the blue one with the nightshade cover was just another of her collection. I opened the cover though, just to read a bit at what the novel was about, but it was blank. Surprised, I flipped through the book and landed on page 136. This page was not blank I quickly realized. And my realization turned to utter horror. The page in front of me detailed everything about me. My height, weight, average distance between each step at a walking pace. Everything was crammed in, written in margins and on corners. It was my whole life. It was me. The end of the page told me how I was supposed to die, and I’m afraid it might come tru- This letter was found under Ralph’s bed, It ends abruptly, and without reason. Take care Mr. Willow.

In sixty words, write what can happen in a second.

He walked through the door, he smiled. I smiled, then immediately frowned. His mouth--just there, on the corner, is a touch of pink. Maybe red? Now the breeze he brought in just hit me--like spring flowers, which is odd for winter. Perfume! Not mine. That touch of pink, or red...not mine. My heart breaks. I say: "who is she?"

write a poem where every line has a different number of words

Why? I asked He went away In glory he basked The dragon was finally slain The victory however was in vain Other villains of the world found out Did not think that was victory all about For long and long I fought them all away And after countless days - in rest I can finally lay.

The job is simple. Every day at 8:34am you will get a phone call. You must answer before 2nd ring and write down the information given to you. On NO ACCOUNT must you engage in conversation with the caller.

They locked me in here yesterday and told me to call a phone number at 8:34 every morning, deliver the numbers, and hang up. No conversation allowed. I imgine they told that to the other guy too. I called yesterday at 8:34 and gave the numbers. "Did they lock you up too?" I heard through the receiver. I hung up immediately. The voice on the other end was a different one today.