If the mods don't want to allow this to be an entry in the writing competition that's fine, they can't really award an AI. I just thought it would be
an interesting experiment to generate a short story with AI using the current theme. The following story was generated by
and the prompt used was "Legends of the Fall by G.P.T."
It was during the long hours of afternoons and evenings that she had first seen him: an intense, yet strangely distant man, who wore only black; whose
features were hidden under his hat of heavy black felt. She did not know his name; she did not know where he was from, nor with whom he traveled. She
did not know anything about him except that he had a very strange way of moving, and the way he looked: his eyes, which were a little too close
together, a little too deeply set; and he was very tall, but she could never quite place where he stood from. And yet, there was a strange gentleness
about him, which led her to think that perhaps he was a friend of the family. And when she could see him no more for the evening, she would always
have the impression that he was only a figment of her imagination.
She would often dream about him, and the dreams invariably had him wearing a black hat and a dark coat. But even in her dreams he remained distant.
She could not help noticing his eyes, which were very large and quite round, with black rings around them. There was something so strange about them
but she thought that they were very nice; the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. They were like black diamonds. And they never moved; if they
moved, it was only to wink, as if to say 'Hello' or 'How are you?'. There was something about the way he looked that made her think he must be a very
interesting man. In the nights when she lay awake, half thinking about him, she would often close her eyes, and just as the black rings were beginning
to become blurred, as though a dream were settling into the darkness of sleep, she saw him again in her mind.
He was standing at the top of a flight of steps in a hall which had black walls and a blue carpet, and she could hear the sound of a piano inside. She
saw him now with his hat and coat on, and his eyes were turned towards the piano. His face was a little pale, and there were dark circles around his
eyes, and his hair was all disheveled. Everything was different somehow, everything was different. She would watch him very intently and she would
find there was a faint smile playing about his mouth. She thought maybe he was waiting for her, but he never before made the slightest effort to
approach her, and she never, not even in a dream, managed to see a single thread of desire in his expression. And she would go about her work with a
smile on her face, a smile which was as cold and as distant as his eyes.
As she lay half-awake, her eyes would open then close, and she would see him standing there on the staircase. He waited now, and she knew that he must
be waiting for someone, and was just wondering, quite innocently, what he would be waiting for. He had been there so long, was he in the hall all of
his own accord? He had been watching the door for so long. Then there was a little movement towards the door, and she heard the faintest of footfalls
and knew that it must be him. And then he began to descend the stairs, the only sound to be heard now, and a sort of silence fell across the stairs as
he passed them. The next thing she knew, he was standing at the foot of the stairs in front of her. His face was all dark now; he looked as if he was
angry. 'What are you doing here?' he said. And then he reached out his hand to touch her hair.
'I thought I was alone,' she explained. 'I thought I was.'
'And were you?' he asked.
'Yes,' she said. She tried to smile. 'You're not mad, are you?' she whispered.
'No,' he answered. 'I haven't got a hat on.'
'Oh,' she said. 'I suppose you're not. I thought you were.'
But she could not see that his eyes were wet. He had his hat in one hand, and he held it against his chest.
'You had my heart,' he said. 'And now I've left it.'
'Don't,' she said. 'Don't cry.'
'It's true,' he said. 'I have lost my heart. But you haven't lost yours yet.'
edit on Thu Oct 7 2021 by DontTreadOnMe because: (no reason