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My AI Told Me a Story: CEMETERY

A Word Selected at Random Turned into a Story by AI

By Heather N KingPublished 12 months ago 5 min read
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Photo by author using GoArt

Everyday I get a word from a random word generator. Using that word, I ask my AI to tell me a story.

Here is today’s word: CEMETERY

Here is that story:

In the small, sleepy town of Willow's End, there was a cemetery that seemed to have a life of its own. The townsfolk often whispered about the strange happenings that occurred within its iron gates, but no one dared to venture inside after dusk. There were tales of ghostly apparitions, eerie sounds, and even the ground shifting as if the dead themselves were restless.

One day, a newcomer arrived in town. His name was Thomas, and he was an ambitious writer with dreams of penning a best-selling novel. He had heard of the peculiar cemetery and felt it would be the perfect setting for his next book. Intrigued by the town's stories, he decided to spend the night among the tombstones, hoping to gather inspiration for his work.

The sun began to set as Thomas approached the cemetery, armed with only a flashlight and a notebook. A chill ran down his spine as he pushed open the creaky iron gate, but he brushed away his fear with thoughts of literary success. As he wandered through the rows of graves, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The air was thick with an inexplicable tension, and the fading light cast eerie shadows on the ground.

Thomas found a serene spot beneath a large weeping willow tree and began scribbling notes in his notebook. As darkness enveloped the cemetery, he felt a growing sense of dread. The temperature seemed to drop, and every sound seemed magnified. He heard the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, but the most unsettling sound of all was the silence – a heavy, suffocating silence that made him question whether he truly was alone.

It wasn't long before Thomas began to see things in the darkness. At first, they were just fleeting glimpses of movement, easily dismissed as tricks of the eye. But as the night wore on, the visions became more vivid. He saw dark figures darting between the tombstones, their faces obscured by shadows. He heard whispers carried on the wind, murmuring words he couldn't quite understand.

Thomas tried to convince himself that these were merely products of his overactive imagination, but the fear gnawing at his gut told him otherwise. Still, he refused to leave. He was determined to spend the entire night in the cemetery, no matter what horrors he might encounter. He believed that facing his fears would not only make for a compelling story but also help him conquer his own demons.

As midnight approached, the atmosphere in the cemetery grew even more oppressive. Thomas felt as if he were being watched, and every so often, he caught a whiff of a sickly-sweet odor that seemed to come from nowhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting, biding its time before it revealed itself.

And then, just as the clock struck midnight, it happened.

A figure materialized before Thomas, emerging from the darkness like a specter. It was a woman, dressed in a tattered, white gown that hung off her skeletal frame. Her eyes were black voids, and her mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Thomas was paralyzed with terror, unable to move or even cry out for help.

The ghostly woman slowly drifted towards him, her bony fingers outstretched as if to grasp his very soul. Thomas's heart pounded in his chest, and he felt an icy coldness seep into his bones. He knew in that moment that if he didn't do something, he would be lost forever, swallowed by the darkness that haunted the cemetery.

Summoning every ounce of courage he could muster, Thomas tore his gaze away from the apparition and began to recite a prayer he had learned as a child. As the words tumbled from his lips, he felt a warmth spread through his body, driving back the numbing cold. The ghostly woman paused, her black eyes narrowing as if in anger.

Thomas continued to pray, his voice growing stronger and more confident with each word. The ghostly woman began to dissipate, her form growing less substantial as the prayer went on. Finally, with a shriek of rage, the apparition vanished entirely, leaving Thomas alone beneath the weeping willow tree.

He sat there for a moment, his body trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew he had narrowly escaped an unthinkable fate, and he was grateful for the power of his faith. As the sky began to lighten with the first rays of dawn, Thomas stood up and walked out of the cemetery, his notebook clutched tightly in his hand.

The experience left an indelible mark on Thomas's soul, and his writing was forever changed. His novel, inspired by that fateful night in the cemetery, became a best-seller, and he gained fame and fortune beyond his wildest dreams. But he never forgot the lesson he learned that night – that sometimes, the things that terrify us the most can also be our greatest source of strength.

And though he would go on to write many more novels, Thomas never again set foot in the cemetery at Willow's End.

This story was completely unedited and created by AI inspired by the word “cemetery”.

supernatural
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About the Creator

Heather N King

Meet the mistress of words who weaves tales that transport you to other worlds. With a unique perspective and a gift for storytelling, my writing will leave you spellbound and craving more.

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