kane_magus | A few examples of NovelAI just rambling on

(See also: "The Island" and "The Boy and His Mother and Grandfather")

Just to follow up a bit on the previous post in a sort of tangential way, I decided to just let NovelAI ramble for a while. All of these were made using the "Krake" AI (the one that's only available at "Opus" tier subscription and is, therefore, the strongest one [ostensibly]), with default settings, no Memory or Author's Notes or Lorebook entries. In these cases, I used a very simple prompt, which was this: "Let's tell a story, shall we? Let's see how far we can go before non sequitur nonsensical nonsense rears its ugly head." That was it. That was my sole input. Everything after came from the AI itself. I didn't "Retry" a single time. I stopped at the first point it tried to do a "chapter break," indicated by a "***" (or until I simply decided it had rambled for long enough, whichever came first). And I guess I'll keep doing this until this post tells me I've gone past the allotted post size, or until I get tired of messing with it. Again, whichever comes first.

Example #1: (I don't know if Kanye West actually said that. Nor do I know if that's an accurate description of Fullmetal Alchemist at all, having not read/seen it myself. But I would guess... not? Also, this is the only one I just stopped, rather than letting it go to a chapter break.)

   Let's tell a story, shall we? Let's see how far we can go before non sequitur nonsensical nonsense rears its ugly head.
   The long and the short of it is that I've been stuck with an unwelcome task for quite some time now—the perfect job in theory: get paid to read, write about reading books... But there are two major flaws with this otherwise perfectly acceptable proposition:
   One, my life has gotten pretty busy as of late, what with school starting up again (and back on a full-time schedule after summer vacation), working part-time at my uncle's store so that I'll have enough money saved by the end of the year, having fun outside of work, keeping up with friends from high school and college, and maintaining my relationship with my boyfriend... not to mention all the various tasks one must keep on top of if they wish to live a happy and fulfilling life, such as doing laundry, grocery shopping, paying bills, cleaning house, preparing meals, taking care of family members, etcetera.
   Two, no matter how much I love to read, the act of writing reviews seems like a tedious chore compared to simply being engrossed in stories; whereas reading gives me plenty of pleasure but doesn't really allow me any space to let out a good hearty sigh or release those deep breaths of relief only possible when you've finished something incredible and feel like you're finally getting your groove on, finding yourself going over old memories yet still feeling invigorated even though it's been months since then... reviewing books, however, makes me think about the process more than anything else. The thoughts constantly racing through my mind: was that a good review? Should I say this instead of that? Was it too long? Did I use that word enough times? Are there any typos here? And should I add that quote from another book because the author said this same thing in his/her previous work? What if he/she wasn't quoted properly, causing confusion? Will that affect the rating point score? Is three stars the right number for this kind of book? How does it sound when I say "I would recommend..." versus just saying "...recommendation" ? Oh dear lord! I need a break—this is why I'm so sick of reading! This has nothing to do with my life, what am I thinking? Am I ever gonna get rid of this stress? It feels like an eternity before I can take time off and actually relax without all these nagging questions poking at me every minute.
   This is the reason I don't write much anymore. I know full well that many other people probably have the exact opposite problem.
   My poor excuse for writing skills aside, I have tried making some efforts at maintaining this blog. But most days end up turning into busy ones where I have to run around everywhere from morning until night to attend to various errands and tasks, leaving me no time whatsoever to read a whole lot of books... which makes me feel terrible, because after years of spending countless hours of my spare time reading books, the very act of putting them down after finishing one is painful enough. My personal belief: reading is more pleasurable than watching TV or playing video games (yes, even if it's Harry Potter) because you can escape reality while your mind wanders away on adventures through fictional worlds. So how come it's almost impossible to find those moments? Because whenever I close my eyes for ten minutes in bed to go on a little nap and catch up on sleep, I inevitably find myself wide awake by the next morning; I mean, I could spend those twenty minutes staring out the window instead, but it's just not the same as losing yourself in a different world entirely—like a dream—and that is the sole purpose of reading in the first place—to temporarily leave reality behind so that I may indulge in the whimsical fancies of imaginary places, creatures, characters, et cetera. Yet I never seem to be able to reap any rewards for doing so. And it hurts. A lot.
   In order to remedy this situation, I decided to make an attempt at catching up with some book reviews. That way, there will at least be something to look forward to every day, some reason why I should get out of bed and face my responsibilities with a smile every time I open my eyes. Hopefully they'll grow stale and old soon enough and that horrible nagging feeling about how much work remains undone will start going away like a bad cold. Maybe then I can finally take a breather from the grind and devote more time towards my own interests rather than other people's? Oh wait... didn't someone else say "it takes five years to become an overnight success?" Damn! What was the name again? Ah yes, Kanye West, thank you. The point is, we're all humans here, all living our lives, making decisions, working hard to improve ourselves, trying our best to accomplish things, learning, growing, progressing, experiencing joy and pain alike, whether it be big or small, bright or dark; it doesn't matter how fast or slow it happens because no one really knows when or if their moment of epiphany is coming or if it's already been realized. We must simply try to keep moving in a direction where happiness awaits us in its most vibrant form—even if that path might not always be clear-cut nor the destination obvious. And yet...
   And yet I've begun wondering: what do I want to do in life? And more importantly, who am I even talking to right now? I don't even know anymore. It seems as though I have drifted away from everyone around me over these past few months, spending hours alone, pretending to read while actually thinking about everything that has happened recently and worrying myself into a nervous frenzy for seemingly no reason whatsoever. Perhaps I'm just lonely and desperate for companionship... But that would mean acknowledging that there are people out there for me. Yet why would I think that just because there happen to be some random guys flirting with me on social media? Do I only see the potential of being loved by others through the filter of my own feelings? Am I too blind? Too afraid of facing the truth of the situation? So many questions, so little answers, so much confusion. There is so much pressure upon young adults like myself, hoping that we won't turn into an old cranky bitter adult, but also fearing we may never become an actual human, one capable of experiencing true emotion. We worry that we're missing something important inside us, something that will help us become more than we currently are—but at the same time, it's very possible to get stuck somewhere between our ideal self and our current state and stay exactly where we're standing.
   But enough about this depressing crap. Let's talk about books instead. Yes, let's. And in particular, the book I decided to review today. I'll start off by saying that I've read the first three volumes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist manga series back when I was in middle school (I think), and I fell in love with its style of action-packed battles; the story line had me hooked from page one thanks to its mixture of serious drama alongside lots of wackiness and lighthearted fun; it definitely didn't take itself too seriously, yet it felt authentic to what a boy growing up into manhood should experience—it spoke to me, you might say. I think what I enjoyed most about the manga, though, is that it allowed me to see that I'm not alone. Other people have experienced things just as hard as me. It showed that no matter how different we all might look on the outside, each and every single one of us share some kind of common bond or another with someone else out there. It made me realize there were others out there who are willing to stand by my side, regardless of whether they believe I can do something worthwhile in life. It helped put my worries to rest and gave me hope for tomorrow...
   Which brings us to the question: what would happen if one of these two boys—Edward and Winry—were separated forever? What would the world be like without them? That is the central theme of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. If anything could be considered "a turning point," then this is it—this series was like nothing I had seen before; it left an impact upon me unlike any other work of fiction I've ever read since. To describe it in short terms, it's the tale of two brothers whose mother dies while giving birth, leaving Edward unable to walk after breaking his legs in a car accident, and their journey to find the Philosopher's Stone that will allow him to restore her lost body parts so that she may finally come back to life and give both children a proper home again; meanwhile, they also try to stay alive against dangerous criminals bent on taking down their brotherhood by using the deadly abilities granted by alchemy. They meet new friends along the way, gain companions who will stay with them through thick and thin (even if those allies tend to die horribly one right after the other), face adversity head-on time and time again—and all with the ultimate goal of getting everything done within three days. In order to do so, they must travel all over the country together as one large party because none of them can fly on their own due to all their injuries and the fact that they lack a sense of self-preservation; as such, they have no choice but to use brooms as transportation. So as you might have guessed by now, I absolutely loved this series!
   The manga is still ongoing in Japan, having concluded in 2013 when it reached volume fifteen in its original run—and there are plans for an anime adaptation in the near future, too—but this year brought about the premiere of an American animated series based off of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. It's called Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, though the second word seems unnecessary at best; what else should they call it? The animation style is excellent, which is good considering how well-known the source material has become; it faithfully captures the essence of each character and allows us to experience their struggles in ways we would not be able to without being translated into English from Japanese. And yes, the voice acting was amazing across the board. Even the secondary characters had believable personalities and mannerisms. Each member was given their own unique voices that matched their appearances perfectly, and some actors even got multiple roles throughout the show... which made me think that perhaps I shouldn't complain so much that I only had two lines myself, or that I'm "not that interesting." But enough about me. I digress.
   Now, I must admit, I didn't get a lot out of the first few episodes; apparently they've changed up a bunch of stuff since the manga ended because they wanted to create something new for everyone to enjoy—so they started with the last battle between Edward and Scar—or maybe he's supposed to be a new villain—which felt like such an awkward fit for my tastes (it just didn't work), and it left me feeling uninterested and bored right away, so I dropped the whole thing before getting too far into it. Thankfully, things picked up quite nicely afterwards. As soon as I saw Riza Hawkeye, I thought to myself, "Yes, finally! A real girl for the boys!"—I mean, she's nothing special as far as looks go but her attitude is certainly memorable; you'll have no trouble remembering her, trust me. Then there's Lust—well, what can I say about her? She's insane. Not in a bad way; if anything, I would consider her one of the most eccentric characters I have seen in a while. And she also has this great habit of ending sentences with the word "hey," which gives off this playful yet charming aura every time. But seriously, how am I supposed to be concerned with any plot line involving this character when she acts more childish than anyone else on the show, including Winry and Izumi?! That being said, she does make for good comedic relief here and there. Oh and speaking of whom: where did these two girls come from, exactly? I remember being surprised by them at first, considering they were not present at all during the manga version of the series... But now that they're part of it, they do a decent job making us care about their lives.
   And then there's Winry herself—what can I even say about her? What a wild ride that girl took me on; she was constantly doing stupid stuff like getting herself caught up in situations beyond her control, always breaking down and crying over seemingly little things, and I could never quite tell whether she was acting or was really as emotionally unstable as she made herself out to be. Sometimes she seemed to be perfectly fine with things and other times she'd throw a fit right in front of Edward just because he couldn't see the bigger picture for himself (though he tried to help her anyway). Either way, I got the impression that she had been through some terrible events in her life, so it makes sense why she wouldn't know what she wants anymore—it's a real pity, too, since I think if she ever found the courage to stop holding everything inside of her, she would turn out to be one hell of an interesting person. If only we didn't have this whole alchemy business to deal with. In my opinion, this is one of those rare cases where the anime takes something away from the source material rather than adding anything new. There are several moments where characters don't say what they should have said or act according to how they usually do; in fact, I believe many scenes were cut short for time purposes alone. That might've explained the sudden change of appearance for Roy Mustang towards the end; instead of having him wear his usual black trench coat and sunglasses, he now looks completely normal, except for a bit of facial hair and a different outfit. I'm sure he'll return back to that form soon enough...
   It was also funny to see Alphonse and Glenda at first—I mean, both their appearances are somewhat questionable... but then again, maybe it's not all that surprising considering their nature: these two have always been weirdos in their own way, you know? But yeah, they were cute. And they were pretty much always trying to make a move on each other. And though I can understand where they're coming from, I felt like there was no need for them to be in a relationship with one another in the show; however, that being said, I could definitely get behind them finding themselves together somewhere down the line. The same goes for Ed and Al. I would be lying if I said I didn't ship them more than once throughout the entire run of the series (even if it did piss me off when Ed started getting over-protective of Winry); he's such an idiot sometimes, which makes me feel bad for him because he's so weak against the cruel world he has yet to come into contact with. It's kind of strange to see him fight with weapons as dangerous as those given to him by Scar—and even scarier is how little control he seems to have over those powers; they just appear out of nowhere. Not to mention the fact that, well, everything is black as night here! There are few things I hate more than the dark. Still, he gets better every time we see him, and he finally got the chance to work things out in this last episode. Good stuff.
   But what about Faye? Why wasn't she in this show? Oh wait... she was, sort of... in a way... she had a cameo appearance during one scene where she was standing beside Riza Hawkeye at the graveyard after everyone else left. They weren't interacting with each other or anything; they simply stood there silently watching the sunset while sipping some coffee together. Yes, I'd say that's a proper reference to her character. So now we know who was supposed to play that part... I'm sure they were all cast based on their looks alone since I have never heard anyone utter any lines of dialogue that fit them whatsoever. And don't get me started on all these new characters they've added in order to fill up all these extra episodes... not only do none of them feel like they belong—they're mostly either flat-out annoying or outright ridiculous (that "bomb" guy).
   Moving right along: Alphonse Elric ended up turning into ashes again thanks to Scar (it really pissed me off when he turned back into a pile of sand without his brother and sister around him), but it looked as though he still possessed his memories and personality from before the entire mess began. This being said, he did something very strange: he reverted back into an infant form and let himself be carried away by the wind. No, it's not because he's incapable of fighting anymore, but rather because that's how Edward saw him most of the time in his youth; as far as I can recall, that's how Alphonse always acted whenever he was with his family. The man must have had a lot to work through... He then passed out and woke up in the desert once more with Winry giving him water. It turns out she was just there waiting for him, hoping for a miracle... But you know what? If anyone could save him now, it would definitely be this girl.
   She went ahead and made her way towards what used to be Central State where she found two young boys crying over their mother's death; they were so upset that they couldn't even hold themselves together properly—but boy, were they adorable! As soon as they got some food into their stomachs, they decided to go on another search for their father—or at least that's what they told her. She eventually ended up at a certain building in which one of the boys tried to force his way in... only to discover that its entrance led nowhere at all. However, if they went all the way up top, they might find someone who knows exactly where the door is hidden... And wouldn't you know it? There was no door there after all, just a broken-down elevator leading up to nothing. That being said, it didn't matter because the second floor was blocked off due to an emergency. They managed to sneak inside somehow (I still have absolutely no idea how) and found themselves face-to-face with several familiar faces: Sheska, Misha (who's not dead), and Huey (the little kid from that train wreck). I almost fell out of my seat when I saw them; these are the last people I expected to see here in this world; I can hardly believe that I actually did.
   They informed Winry about everything that had happened in the past few months... namely, the fact that Scar has been making his way through Central State by using alchemy to turn humans into monsters known as homunculi. The first time he came by with his army of such creatures, he took everyone prisoner except for Faye and Lust; he kept both women for himself while turning them into servants. Though he later found out that those girls could be quite useful for him, he ultimately killed them to ensure that they never talk to anyone else ever again. In fact, that was the very reason why Alphonse was taken away from Ed's side back then. But wait—what was it that Faye said earlier? Did she really say she wanted to die? So far, it's been hinted that she was hoping to get killed before she could reveal any information to others, but she finally gave in to her urges. It seems she always knew how to keep quiet until the right moment presented itself, so her death should've come as a relief for her. Even though I'm happy for her... part of me is also saddened at the same time... Not only did we lose someone who saved our asses countless times during the events of this series, but now we're left with yet another loose end... one more mystery than before.
   Oh, and speaking of mysteries: what became of Yoki Shigeru and Yutaro? Yes, what happened to them after all that?! If you ask me, that whole thing where they were chased down by all their classmates felt pretty rushed and unbelievable (especially considering all the other questions I have regarding this show). They simply ran off after being kicked out from school, not saying a word about anything else—and then we saw nothing about them afterwards. Are these characters completely dead? They have no importance in the story whatsoever... which leads us to another question. How much control does Riza Hawkeye possess over alchemy? When he first appeared in episode six, he told Ed and Alphonse that he would do whatever he could to make sure they don't suffer anymore; however, he went on to say that they shouldn't even bother trying since he has already "accomplished" something along those lines years ago; as it turned out, his true aim was to protect his sister. Now here comes the interesting bit: it seems as though his younger brother can use his power as well! Remember how Edward was able to pull up his own sword just like how Izumi did? Well, apparently, there's a good chance that both siblings may be capable of controlling the powers of others with ease once they get older... I hope I'm wrong, but I'm beginning to think that this world might turn out to be a lot darker than we thought.
   Anyway, back when we first met Scar in the original manga and anime series, Faye used her ability to create little fairies known as sprites and ordered them all to attack him. He got hurt in some serious ways—but now we see him using an actual human body, albeit one covered by black armor. Maybe this is why Faye chose not to fight against him? Or maybe she knew she wouldn't stand any chances anyway? In either case, it didn't work out for her: she was stabbed by her own weapon (the same spear she made for herself during the events of episode eleven) right before she fell down a hillside while screaming. So yeah, the next time you want to watch an action-packed scene from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya or A Certain Magical Index, check out episode sixteen and seventeen first; otherwise, you're going to miss quite a few cool moments! This being said... where's Alphonse? What happened to him?! Did he become ashes again after everything he went through because he wasn't able to transform into his final form in time? I really wish we would've seen more of the boy... but I guess that'll have to wait until the next season.
   Well, at least they gave us a glimpse of what was happening in the present day: the Black Knights had finally found the alchemist who created those homunculi, meaning that their mission was about to come to a close. Though it was obvious that Sheska was never truly evil in the first place, she still decided to kill herself so that no one could ever learn about the truth behind this whole affair. It all started when she got possessed by someone else—someone powerful enough to make her act exactly like them whenever she lost control of her body and emotions. After coming across several corpses—all members of the knights—she discovered the man responsible for such chaos and decided to try and stop him on her own since her comrades were nowhere around. She couldn't just let him continue killing everyone without trying anything first; if anyone deserved punishment, it was him for making others do something as horrid as murdering each other. As it turns out, this new villain was none other than Scar himself, who appeared out of thin air with an army of homunculi following him. He tried attacking Sheska only to discover that she has transformed into a true demon capable of slaughtering hundreds of soldiers at once; luckily, Ed came back in time to save his girlfriend's life. By the time he made it to his side, he had already turned into a pile of ash...
   When the story reached its end, the majority of the cast made their way outside the city walls... except for Alphonse, who simply disappeared. I'm pretty sure he was supposed to go off and find the tombstone that Faye was standing near while holding her sword in one hand. That's where the scene ended, leaving me with more questions than answers. How did he manage to get there? Why didn't he speak up about it before going inside? What kind of monument is it? Will we ever know? You don't need me to tell you how much this show sucked at ending things properly! Not to mention, it wasn't until later that we learned that Riza Hawkeye died right after giving birth to their son—and now we're left wondering what became of the kid. His name is Gremmy. According to Sheska, they all shared a very strong bond from the moment they met.
   I could say so much more about the events of these last few episodes, but honestly, my mind got so full it shut down on me. There were just so many weird and confusing moments packed together into this twenty-five minute period; yet despite that fact, I still wanted it to keep on going for as long as possible because it just felt that good! It was nice seeing everyone come back and showing us a different side of them compared to when they first arrived in this world. Nowhere was that better demonstrated than in the scenes between Ed and Sheska: there was some genuine emotion being expressed by both parties here. When the man first appeared in episode three, he seemed like he knew absolutely nothing about love or romance... though he managed to win the heart of two beautiful women over within days thanks to his ability to become anyone else at will. By the end of season two, he even told Alphonse that he has no interest in becoming an adult anymore; in his eyes, his youth would be the best thing about him. And why wouldn't it? He has already had several romantic encounters with such great characters as Yuki Nagato, Mikuru Asahina, Kuyoh Suoh, Kyon, Haruhi Suzumiya, Misaki Matsuuri, Sakanaka Noriko, Tsuruya, Maid Mite, Ryoko Asakura (in the manga), and Faye Valentine—not to mention countless others! I can understand why people might grow tired of having to repeat that same old story for so long—but then again, I don't know how much I should complain since I'm probably doing the exact same thing to other girls every day!

Example #2: (This one is relatively short up to the first break, but it got really dark, really quick, but at least it seemed to recognize that it was all nonsensical nonsense, I guess. It also couldn't maintain a proper POV, switching back and forth from first and second.)

   Let's tell a story, shall we? Let's see how far we can go before non sequitur nonsensical nonsense rears its ugly head.
   You and your sister were inseparable as kids. You both had red hair; you liked to play pretend games together—games where you pretended that the world was real but didn't know it; games where there wasn't any gravity or other rules for movement so that you could jump up and fall back down from skyscrapers. The only thing keeping you from falling right out of existence was what little weight existed on Earth: all the trees, buildings, and mountains holding everything down. It made sense at first when you played those games because they gave you something solid to hold onto while moving through space; however, with time the truth began to dawn on you that maybe things weren't really connected after all; maybe this entire world was nothing more than a thoughtless illusion. Maybe not everyone shared these thoughts with you though... especially if one day someone took away your childhood innocence. One such person is our villain who sees us children as his prey to be hunted without mercy. So he waits patiently until an opportunity arises—and then steps into our world like some kind of shadowy phantom sent to wreak havoc by breaking reality's neck just long enough to suck out all its blood.
   Now here comes the good part. He finds himself standing alone against you two girls whose innocent faces look at him like that of small kittens ready to pounce upon their tiny nemesis. There isn't much that can stand before you now that have grown beyond childish fantasies and found themselves able to defend yourselves from all forms of harm. With swords held high in each hand, the battle begins between you three. A fierce fight ensues which has you growling and snarling over each other—all clawing and biting, making sure that no one wins this struggle but yourself. But the monster keeps coming! How do you beat him? Well, instead of attacking head-on, why don't you use one of your strengths: imagination. Instead of fighting fair, why not start using tactics to confuse and distract your opponent? Now it's time to strike with deadly accuracy—using the element of surprise as your ultimate weapon. It may take a bit more effort, but you manage to defeat this horrible creature who stole so many precious memories from you years ago.
   Now let's move on to more lighthearted matters. You're walking home late at night on a warm summer evening when suddenly someone starts chasing after you with some unknown intentions. You try running away from them while holding onto whatever bags you might carry with you. Unfortunately for you, your efforts are fruitless. The attacker manages to catch up to you quickly, grab hold of you, and drag you away while laughing maniacally the whole way. All you can hear is the sound of crunching bones mixed with their vile cackle echoing in the distance... but there's nothing else to be heard...
   You wake up the next morning, thinking that perhaps you had just dreamed that last encounter... that maybe it was all just in your mind... maybe it was nothing but an illusion... nothing more than nothingness. But then again, how could it all have been an illusion? Surely something so horrifying couldn't have existed only inside your mind. Besides, you know that such an attack would leave marks on your body, bruises and cuts and possibly even broken bones, and yet you don't seem to be feeling any pain at all. It doesn't make sense—and if anything, that should frighten you even further. As the days go by and still no signs of improvement come along, you begin to fear that the wound has become infected or maybe the injury has gone unnoticed; either case resulting in the spread of poisonous bacteria through your veins which has turned into a very painful death sentence.
   After months pass with little change in your situation, one day a stranger comes around offering assistance with his special healing skills. He takes your hand and places it upon a glowing green orb which slowly pulses with a pale white light. Within moments, it begins to feel warmer against your skin until finally you're able to open your eyes once more. You see that you've healed perfectly fine! What happened here?! How did I recover so fast when every other test failed to prove my wounds were completely sealed off? Now you don't think too much of what just occurred. You decide to simply chalk up this mystery as being miraculous. Perhaps the healing process had something to do with the mysterious person who saved you. So the next time he visits, you invite him in for tea and offer him some freshly baked cookies straight from the oven. After taking some bites out of the cookie, you notice something unusual about its texture: it feels like there's sand between your teeth... and not sugar at all...
   Let's return now to your story before it gets lost among nonsensical nonsense. It's all coming back to you...
   Your childhood home was located in a small town just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. Your family ran a bookstore downtown where you both worked part-time while going to school during the weekdays. Every year since the beginning of your lives together you celebrated Christmas Eve by gathering with friends, family members, and even the local church choir (if the priest could ever find the time) to sing carols and have everyone take turns passing around hot chocolate and mulled wine. But that particular night will always be remembered more than anything else in those years because that is when things changed—when everything suddenly felt so very different than it should have been.
   There came an intruder that evening into your home—a stranger wearing a mask that hid his face from sight; however, it didn't hide his smell or sound—a deep throaty growl emanated from his chest; his footsteps made no noise whatsoever, but his breathing sounded like a sharp panting; his clothes appeared torn and covered with mud, dirt and bloodstains. You stood frozen in terror as you tried desperately to warn everyone within earshot about the danger lurking behind you, only to see all of them fall victim to their own fear and run away in horror without making any effort to defend themselves against this terrifying monster who had decided to visit the one place he knew he wouldn't be recognized—your house! The intruder saw your frightened eyes staring back at him and smirked with satisfaction at having found what he'd sought for so many years. He began to stalk towards you with eyes fixed upon your terrified body. Before you were able to react, before you were able to cry for help, he reached out for your trembling hand. There was nothing you could do to prevent the evil from touching your skin, to make sure it wasn't ripped apart right there on your living room floor. His grip was tight and cold like ice yet warm like fire; it burned the flesh off of the bones and forced you to look up into a pair of red glowing eyes. Those same burning crimson flames peered down through the holes of a skull-like mask that smelled like death...
   And now we've come full circle again: nonsensical nonsense rears its ugly head...
   The creature leans forward over his knees with his mouth wide open ready to swallow me whole. I can hear his sharp teeth gnashing together in anticipation as his foul breath reaches my nostrils once more. My vision begins to blur until finally it goes black, and when I wake, everything is peaceful and calm; the world is silent and still, but something is not quite right—something is missing; where is the pain? Where is the fear? But then the realization comes crashing in upon me like a tidal wave breaking across an ocean shoreline—I am dead. How could this be happening? Did I somehow survive this nightmare after all this time? Am I really back in reality?! The thought leaves me confused with questions running rampant through my mind while trying desperately to make sense of this entire situation.
   There's no point dwelling on what has happened for too long though because sooner or later you'll have to face facts—the truth which lies hidden within the shadows of your own unconscious desires and fears...
   ***
   A young boy had always been told by his parents to never talk to strangers, especially ones who might try to get close enough so that they could reach out and touch him.

Example #3: (Warning, this one actually went to the NSFW places I thought the previous example was heading toward but didn't. This one seemed to be the most... stream of conscious of the three. Also, this one has some dialogue, at least? Anyway, I'm going to stop here, with this one. I'm actually surprised the DW post was able to hold all this much text without balking.)

   Let's tell a story, shall we? Let's see how far we can go before non sequitur nonsensical nonsense rears its ugly head.
   A young man in his early twenties comes out of the men's room at one of those places where you get off after getting on; it could have been a bar or restaurant and even some theaters... they all do this now to entice people into coming inside... I guess that makes sense. The young fellow is wiping his face with toilet paper and wondering why he'd bothered to wipe up there when he knows perfectly well what kind of crap has already hit the fan down below—if you know what I mean, friend. It was an old-fashioned place then but it had no shame about using words like "crap" just because it sounds hip. You may be sure nobody ever said such things around me: I didn't believe them if anybody did. What does a guy who uses that word think is going to happen to him later? He must enjoy being mocked by angels as his life passes through his asshole. And so forth, naturally.
   Anyway, the kid walks past a rack of magazines on which are displayed glossy pictures of naked women and various other items, including at least one copy each of two tabloid newspapers whose main attraction is sex. In front of these racks were half a dozen boys who looked maybe fifteen or sixteen years old and several girls not much younger. All wore tight jeans and most of the kids also had Tshirts on although none had any kind of top underneath their Tshirt; apparently some fashion in clothing style called for showing lots of bare flesh under tops too short or slitted for comfort. Of course many of the shirts had holes in them somewhere and so showed more than enough skin anyway, sometimes even worse than when they weren't wearing anything at all. Somebody must have told the young man something along those lines: otherwise how would he have known?
   The boy was on his way to meet friends outside the building where he lived and work part time; he was probably supposed to arrive with someone else from school or whatever, but had decided to go alone because he couldn't find anyone who wanted to come. Maybe the others got cold feet once they saw the look in his eyes—his expression of grim determination as he headed towards this mysterious rendezvous. Whatever it was, the boy didn't stop walking until he reached the far end of the corridor that led to the men's room, then he turned around and began slowly strolling back. The girl standing closest to the entrance glanced quickly away when she realized that her friend wasn't looking, then caught herself after a moment: "What's wrong?" She walked over to stand beside him and said nothing.
   He said, "It's stupid but I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do after tonight."
   "After tonight?"
   "You don't want to know what I mean by 'tonight'."
   "Tell me what you mean," the girl insisted.
   "Well..." the boy started. He was nervous about being seen talking to his boss' daughter in the hallway. He knew there were no witnesses but still felt uneasy doing so. "I think I'd better leave town for awhile... get out of here while I can before—"
   "Before what? Before Daddy gets home early? And finds us together and figures out that we're sleeping together like everyone else does? Is that what happened last week, at least two of you found each other? Did somebody tell my father or did he hear something from one of those neighbors who make sure he knows everything they see?" The young man thought she looked rather sad, more upset than angry at the idea he might have to run away from home. "So he'll take his anger out on you, is that it?" she added bitterly. Her face showed more pain than resentment. "Or maybe just me."
   The boy could only nod his head silently.
   The girl went on: "And how long are you planning on running, kid? You must have enough money saved up to go somewhere but not enough to stay in a hotel or some such place and eat regularly. Or do you think you can live off your body until your dad cools down a bit and comes looking for you again? Because if that's what you plan on doing, I warn you that I will do anything necessary to stop you. Even kill myself," she said with surprising calmness; her voice was coldly matter-of-fact—she sounded like an executioner calmly explaining the mechanics of the death chamber. No emotion whatsoever, as though she were simply stating facts.
   He couldn't help but be impressed by her seriousness even as the full meaning of what she had said began to sink in: "What?"
   "I mean it." She stepped closer towards him. "You may think I'm too young for all this but I'm older than I look and I'm also aware that I'm no longer considered a child in my own right. So don't come whining when you get sick and can't get medical attention because you got beat up or raped or robbed and can't pay the bill! If you're really serious about getting out while you still can, then don't ever show yourself back around here, understand? Go to another city or country or whatever... anywhere far away where nobody knows who you are or has any reason to connect us!"
   Her words came like thunderclaps, hard and fast. The boy felt himself shaken to his very core by them. He realized that he was standing there staring at her as though hypnotized.
   The girl glared at him angrily. "Are you listening?" she asked in a low whisper.
   He shook his head slowly from side to side: he hadn't heard a word she'd said.
   "I'll say it one more time: do not ever come home again." She turned on her heels and walked off down the corridor; leaving her friend behind as if she never existed—as if she were just some stranger walking down the street with nothing special going on except for the way people looked over their shoulders when they passed her, afraid she might try to kill them for reasons only known to herself. But this wasn't true, of course. The young man knew why she wanted him to leave, why she hated him so much, although he had no idea what could possibly have happened to make her hate him.
   He followed her into the men's room and watched as she headed straight for a row of stalls in a distant corner; apparently it had been built long before the place was converted to a restaurant and bar and its design was strictly utilitarian. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least to see a urinal instead of toilet paper but such an arrangement would have made things too complicated for the management so everything was left exactly as it always had been. So the boy sat on one of those wooden stools, waited until the girl had disappeared inside a stall, then he dropped his pants, squatted, pulled his penis out of his underpants, placed his hand around the shaft then began rubbing himself quickly, furiously... working himself up into a state of climax as he imagined that he was entering her, fucking her.
   But he couldn't go all the way to orgasm and as soon as he thought about it, realized that he was wasting time he didn't have. He decided to return home right away: maybe even take a train tonight. After all, how many more chances were there to do something like this? What kind of chance did he think he'd ever get if he went on living in the same town where everybody knew him? As for the girl—who could say what she'd do now? Would she try to kill him after she got back from wherever she was going to run off to next, or would she let him be, leave him alone and forget about what had happened? But surely she wouldn't want to have anything more to do with him after last week's episode! No doubt her father had already called her a whore again and told her not to come home until she stopped seeing "that no-good bastard," as he referred to her boyfriend whenever he spoke of it.
   The young man stepped into the men's room once again. There must be some place he could go while waiting for his turn. Perhaps another men's room across the hall.
   He wandered past the magazines and racks of clothes without paying much attention, except for noting which pictures seemed most likely to catch his fancy; in fact he hadn't even noticed that they displayed photographs rather than paintings or drawings, nor was he interested in reading any of the captions on them, although the first thing that caught his eye was a photo of a naked woman riding a bicycle; he just wondered what it would feel like to ride a bike naked. And who would believe that a naked girl on a bicycle looked sexy enough to arouse him when it wasn't actually happening but only pictured in ink on paper? Then he passed the rack where copies of the two tabloids were kept and saw one of those papers lying open on top of the pile and at least one picture inside had made an impression on him. It showed a fat little black guy standing beside a skinny white chick with her breasts hanging down between her knees as she bent forward over a washing machine with both arms extended so far that her fingertips almost touched its bottom... either that or she was trying to grab something from beneath the churning water, he couldn't tell which: probably best to avoid looking under such things to see what they might be up to—at least before you knew for sure how dirty they really were. He thought this image reminded him of the time he'd gone out drinking with some friends—a few weeks ago—and found himself walking around outside the building in which they lived when all three of them began feeling very sick from having been drunk too fast and taking too many pills. So they staggered back into the lobby and lay down side by side on the floor and rested awhile, then decided to have a contest to see who could vomit first and went through the motions again while watching each other's faces to see if their expressions matched up exactly every time. But after about a dozen times neither of them could keep it going anymore; instead they started laughing uncontrollably until somebody came in the door and saw what they were doing and told them to leave immediately or else get arrested. The young man recalled being forced to wipe his mouth off as he stumbled towards his car in order not to look as though he were kissing someone there.
   The picture he had seen earlier now seemed even more erotic than he remembered; he felt aroused seeing it yet didn't want to actually read any words on that paper. How old was the woman with the breasts hanging down between her legs? Could she possibly have a child somewhere? Maybe she was just posing for these pictures but the boy wondered why anyone would pose like that when she clearly wanted the camera lens at her crotch, her thighs, her ass... or perhaps she just liked to show herself from this angle because men usually preferred looking at women from behind, when they weren't facing away from him at all, looking right at him, daring him to do something about it... but maybe he should think of something to say before he opened the tabloid so that he wouldn't sound stupid asking if she really did have a kid—especially since he'd heard no rumors whatsoever about anybody in their building getting pregnant. But he'd still be able to ask: "You're so big aren't you?" Then quickly add: "No, I mean your stomach. You must be huge."
   But then what could be done with those lips stretched wide enough for his entire head to fit inside? He couldn't imagine how she got them back into place after opening them that far. What could have possessed her to let them hang down that way anyway? Or was it simply an accident? She probably thought it made her look sexy too, or else it was just some kind of kink and nobody asked questions unless they thought they already knew everything they needed to know. Whatever it might've been, it had certainly been effective on him! At least he wasn't completely incapable of thinking of anything appropriate to say under such circumstances; if he didn't mind acting a bit silly while he spoke with her he'd even pretend not to notice the enormous gape of her mouth as long as she pretended not to notice that his own penis was pointing straight up out of the fly in his pants like the red flag at the top of the American flag—only this one was shorter, about three feet tall instead of thirty-one, the same height as the building.
   And what about the little black guy standing beside the skinny white chick? The young man stared at him intently: this was someone who definitely would have to do something to stop being ignored by everybody around him, including himself!
   He continued wandering through the mall without knowing why or where he wanted to go or even why he should want to get there before somebody else came along first. It seemed to take forever for the next person to appear in front of that stall in which he'd just witnessed the girl's strange behavior: a small, slightly built black boy with a pronounced Adam's apple that wobbled up and down when he swallowed hard. He pushed open a door with a push button and walked inside... then stopped suddenly and turned towards the stall and looked at it with curiosity until he noticed another customer behind him... but apparently decided against entering and waited outside patiently. His patience was rewarded quickly enough since soon enough two more boys entered and one after the other each squatted down on his haunches over a toilet seat while trying to pee so hard they almost fell into it! They couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, both were dark skinned and one had long braids hanging down from his head like a mop; yet they didn't look as if they belonged together, didn't seem to know what the others' names might be nor did either of them ever glance in the direction of the other even once during their brief stay in the stall; instead all of their attention was focused entirely upon themselves and the business at hand.
   The young man realized he was getting tired of waiting. Maybe these kids knew nothing about him or perhaps they already knew everything he could possibly tell them about himself. Whoever else came along now would have no choice but to wait too. He left his stool, returned to the hallway—whereupon two more guys walked past him—then headed back toward the entrance, looking neither right nor left. By this time the line stretched halfway across the corridor, stretching farther out of sight with people standing behind those who still stood in front of the stall... although nobody dared try to push any of those who remained standing aside because everybody wanted to see firsthand whatever it was that was happening in that stall.
   A large fat woman in a dress that looked as though it were made of plastic stepped forward and smiled at the boy: "Well I never!" she exclaimed loudly. She continued smiling and pointing her finger at the open door as if trying to draw his eye there then looked around and added: "Now you come over here and stand next to me," before adding an apologetic tone: "I'm sorry but there's not much room between us." The girl saw herself being pushed closer and closer to the stalls until he'd be forced to squeeze himself inside a toilet bowl, whether he liked it or not; or worse yet, have to enter the water itself if he tried to avoid having his penis sucked by somebody on top of him or else smothered beneath a buttocks that wouldn't budge when asked to bend downwards so the head of his cock could reach its target. And while they were in the act he might decide to cut short their fun and grab the blade of the razorblade shaver and slit the throat of the person sitting above him while both struggled to gain control over each other's weapon, fighting for survival in the scum-filled waters which would surely drown them both since one was almost twice the other's weight, but probably still unable to escape from each other's embrace, even with a knife.
   But instead, he merely found himself standing beside her, staring at something else—a scene outside the stall. He stared at three white boys entering the restroom ahead of them. They had long hair tied up into ponytails, wore army jackets too large for their small bodies and jeans too loose for their slender legs and feet encased in big black shoes like clowns' slippers and also carrying slung around their necks the same kind of satchels carried by members of marching bands everywhere in the world and some guys who drove yellow cabs for a living, only these satchels were more than likely filled with books rather than bags of candy. Two girls were following after them as well: an extremely tall blonde wearing tight bluejeans whose breasts seemed to be bigger than she was and a tiny redhead whom he recognized as another classmate. They came close to the young man but didn't look his way as he stood there behind the fat woman waiting for her to move forward. The boy realized he wasn't sure why he felt such concern for the two girls now that they'd been introduced; perhaps it stemmed from all the trouble they'd gotten themselves in while riding along in that car; or maybe it just happened naturally without any reason being given for it; or else it could've arisen simply because they'd left their group unprotected and on their own and then stumbled upon someone else who would protect them or take them somewhere where they could find help.
   He glanced at the young women again, feeling uneasy about their situation. Now that they were no longer in danger, what should he do with them? He decided to ignore them. If they were going to stand here until somebody forced them to go into the stalls then he had nothing further to say to either of them... although he did wonder if this meant he wouldn't see them for awhile. After all, a number of years had passed since last he'd seen either one of them and certainly time had a habit of making people forget each other once it took hold and began pulling everybody apart. But still he wondered how long they planned to wait since obviously neither one looked too happy doing so and besides might not have enough money left over in their pockets to get back home. Perhaps they were hoping that by standing there long enough the next person in line who needed to use the restroom would realize how much room was available before anyone actually made use of the facilities and offer them his place instead. They didn't appear to be holding out much hope for the possibility though and kept looking down at their feet as if waiting for some miracle to happen—the way a lot of kids waited when you saw them waiting anywhere, especially those sitting around some fire during the day with friends who'd always want something new and exciting or else keep on talking about something interesting which hadn't happened yet: "You mean he's really got himself an honest job?" or "She hasn't slept with anybody else lately has she?"
   The young man walked away from the two girls but immediately turned towards the hallway leading deeper into the mall. His curiosity had been aroused now but wasn't able to find any words appropriate to ask her about herself without sounding stupid. At first glance he could tell that her eyes were green, her hair brown, her skin white, her body thin, her legs short; her breasts small; her waist wide; her ass flat; her nipples dark; and although it seemed unlikely, it also appeared possible, if only just barely, for him to imagine what lay beneath her skirt, what kind of panties she wore... although even after spending so many hours thinking of this girl in detail it was still difficult for him to picture what might possibly lie beyond the crotch of her pants. What would be visible there? Would he ever know? The only thing that bothered him more than trying to envision this woman naked was wondering whether she would've noticed the strange look on his face as he stood beside her staring at nothing in particular and suddenly blushed with embarrassment because he'd spent too much time gawking at her instead of walking away to join his friends. And the way she'd said "You come over here and stand next to me!" reminded him again of a similar expression, a phrase of endearment used by the people whose home they'd visited several times: You sit down over there by yourself while we wait for our turn—just like saying, Come on, get up! Sit down by yourself!
   As usual when leaving someplace, especially one where he didn't expect anything good or bad to happen—at least not right away—he felt somewhat depressed about being forced to leave it behind without having accomplished anything except perhaps catching glimpses of someone standing inside the stall doing something interesting that he wished he knew how to do or else witnessed another person's reaction upon discovering something completely new. He wondered how long he could keep watching that spot before anyone else decided to enter the restroom, if the scene outside remained interesting enough that he wouldn't have to find out what went on inside and be forced to spend any longer within its confines. If nobody entered for awhile then he probably should go back in order to check and make sure everything had ended all right; but he wasn't going to try forcing his way past anybody just in case somebody might decide to call security and accuse him of something; besides it would just give them more reason to follow him around later just waiting until an opportunity presented itself so they could catch him off guard... and force him into a stall as well.
   He looked towards the mall entrance from which the other boys emerged followed by the fat woman who led the girls deeper into the corridor. It seemed as though there was no chance the man with the mustache would ever arrive since the line still stretched halfway across the hallway. Then suddenly he heard footsteps echoing along the polished floor: rapid footfalls, hard breathing, slamming doors—and also a voice shouting angrily: "You're making too much noise! Shut the fuck up!!" The young man recognized the voice immediately: it belonged to the guy he'd been waiting for, his friend who'd chased after him and yelled at him not to wander off while they were searching for their parents' car and finally found it and now here he came, running toward him in high spirits, grinning and looking relieved when they met again—like two people reunited after having gone on separate journeys but meeting each time they both returned to the same spot. He continued talking nonstop until the three reached where the boy stood alone: "I got stuck riding along with this idiot driving my mom's car and we couldn't find your folks." And although the guy talked rapidly almost without pausing, the young man realized that even if they'd spent only a few minutes apart he still had trouble keeping track of all of his friend's thoughts and intentions. And whenever he asked for clarification or an explanation, his buddy simply shook his head and laughed before answering:
   "I told you I lost control of the goddamn car," then paused to wipe sweat from his brow. His face was redder than usual, maybe because it always turned red when he became excited about something; then he added:
   "But don't worry, everything worked out in the end." Although the words made sense it didn't necessarily mean what he said actually meant anything important. It wasn't unusual for him to say something like that since every word which came out of his mouth sounded strange unless taken literally. Sometimes a person could understand more by watching someone else instead of listening to what they were saying. But no matter how often one explained to him why things happened as they did he remained confused and eventually decided that trying to explain would be more confusing than just accepting what already occurred as being natural—if nothing else, he reasoned, his friend would stop asking him questions and wasting his time as well as his breath—after all, he was just too tired to try to think up any clever answers to offer. So most times when this guy wanted an explanation it seemed best not to provide one especially if the topic involved some kind of accident or mistake... or whatever. Even when the two of them had been growing up together in their neighborhood neither had been particularly interested in learning the rules of playing ball games; so much effort went into following the directions on the cards issued by each team's coach without having to remember all of their names, let alone who played where during a particular season—although at first they'd felt stupid having to study those tiny black symbols printed on white sheets and follow each other around with a ball held under our arm while also paying close attention to where we were standing and whose feet we stepped on as we waited for somebody to yell "play ball!" but after several seasons everyone got used to it and started remembering the people themselves rather than simply the number stenciled onto their jerseys.
   The young man wondered whether he should even bother attempting to tell his friend the whole story about the car. He figured the longer he tried the less likely it was he would ever find out what really happened. After all, when he spoke about something happening in his life there was never anything very complicated about what took place: either you made your bed then lay down in it, or you didn't get in it; and if you didn't make your bed then you sure as hell didn't lie down to sleep. It wasn't necessary to keep track of everything you said since anyone would know pretty soon what had taken place anyway—so why bother explaining? As far as he knew his friend wasn't interested in knowing how a person behaved towards others once they were already dead because nobody could explain why they acted the way they did to begin with—nobody except the person himself of course. If the person did care to ask the question they wouldn't want to hear an answer that only provided an explanation of things that had happened long before. The conversation would come to an end shortly afterwards and that was that. And maybe that's the reason so many people always came up empty-handed when they asked someone to describe their last moment of consciousness—they realized too late it was too early in their lives to understand all those things which occurred later, when they finally decided to try to figure it all out or at least talk about it.
   "You're right," said the boy, feeling tired and still hungry. "Let's go eat."
   He led them both toward the nearest entrance from where they'd entered earlier but as he reached the spot where the line ended his friend grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over to the other side where the two girls were waiting. They looked away when he arrived; neither one glanced in his direction although the one who'd spoken to him a few moments ago seemed to be watching his approach with some curiosity. He stared back at her for a while without speaking until she became annoyed with his continued silence and walked off followed by a good-looking woman wearing a green blouse with a white collar and carrying an imitation designer handbag. Her brown hair fell neatly across her forehead and eyes, forming a sort of frame around her face. She appeared to have been crying, or perhaps somebody had just told a joke or story to amuse themselves, and had used the occasion to wipe their eyes with a wadded tissue, leaving a small streak of tears on each cheek. Although the young man had never seen this girl before it suddenly dawned upon him that he knew the color of the panties she wore—not because they were exactly like hers—but because he'd imagined what might've lain beneath her skirt as he stood next to her staring at nothing in particular and then tried to imagine what would happen if someone actually opened the stall door. And because he hadn't made any attempt to get up or walk away, nor even waited long enough to see if anyone else would enter the restroom after all, the fact of knowing something didn't necessarily mean anything important could possibly come from knowing it: he wasn't trying to learn about it either way since there was no point doing so unless another person found out about it first so they could make use of such knowledge whenever they felt necessary.
   His friend led them into a room filled with round tables and chairs arranged inside an open area enclosed by a glass ceiling and walls painted yellow. Several waiters worked quickly filling plates with food while several more pushed silver carts through the crowd carrying drinks and trays full of glasses and utensils. A number of people were already eating although most others sat at their own table talking quietly with friends while waiting for the meal to be served. The boy grabbed a tray which held three heaping dishes and began shoving his way toward a place where a few empty seats remained; his friend took advantage of this opportunity to ask him once again for an explanation concerning his sudden appearance in front of the mall's main entrance; but he ignored his question and simply said: "I'm starved." When they reached the other side of the room the girl seated alone in one of the middle-row tables stood up, walked over to their booth, greeted the young man warmly, asked how he'd been, shook hands, patted him on the back, placed her purse on the chair, smiled, then kissed the young man on both cheeks before sitting down. She stared at him as though expecting something—something that might explain why she was there. He looked at her for a moment before turning towards his companion who appeared just as confused as she appeared relieved. She nodded and told the woman next to her that she should leave—she needed to talk with him. After she left another waiter arrived with a huge plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy accompanied by green beans and biscuits topped with butter and jam; he poured himself some iced tea from a pitcher, raised it high above his head like a flag while holding onto its neck, swirled it around making loud sloshing noises until it spilled all over everything else on his tray which only caused everybody nearby to laugh at the same time: not at the accident itself or even what they considered to be the humor of the situation, but because of the expression on the young man's face which changed the instant the ice cold liquid began dripping across his fingers and sliding off his hand and wrist; nobody could understand why this made him smile and shake his head in disbelief. The waiters laughed too and told him never to bring that here again; he thanked them and continued eating.
   ***
   "The girl I knew," he said.
   "Oh... oh!" cried the boy.
   "And then after we got home my mom tried to have sex with me."
   His friend watched silently for several seconds then finally burst out laughing.

Anyway, yeah, those are just three examples of how this one particular AI can take the same simple prompt and run in vastly different directions with it. I may try this "experiment" again at some point later, just for shits and giggles. (EDIT) Actually, I won't be doing that, at least not any time soon, because I've since canceled my NovelAI subscription (yet again). Not for any specific reasons, this time, but simply because I don't think it is good enough (yet) to justify spending $25 USD per month on it. Maybe I'll give it another try in 6 months or a year or so. (/EDIT)