Armaros Deandre
0 Points
0
0
Resplendent in moonlight, cast anew,
There stood a lad of years just fourteen,
Across the skyline his tale told in view,
Of tarnished innocence, and hands unclean.
Armaros Deandre his name, Armar his claim,
In the heart of New York, a teeming maw,
Tired of unjust blame, and life's cruel game,
He sought escape but found only flaw.
In grudging sin, he traversed the night,
A stolen coin gleaming with silvery might,
Every footfall ringing with hallowed fright,
Into the abyss of a reckless plight.
With pulse throbbing in his youthful ears,
His path traced through shadow-touched tears,
And as he toiled, his worst fears,
Unravelled in echoes of passing years.
His hand had worked the lock's cold lick,
A seductive whisper, a paperclip's cruel trick,
Yet the box yawned at his desperate prick,
As time slipped through its relentless tick.
No sooner had the coin kissed his palm,
His sanctuary ruptured with a sickening calm,
A curt demand, an alarm,
His shadowed theatre began to swarm.
Evasive action, an envelope snatched,
His name etched in a plot so hatched.
Penned in jumbled words, but one thing matched,
‘Armaros,’ it read, a secret he had thatched.
Adrenaline urged him forward, away he sped,
Past prying eyes and truths best left dead,
Each stride echoing fear's fiery thread,
Towards a looming precipice of dread.
His eyes locked with the boss' glare,
His stolen prize drawing the intense stare,
Breath taut on the edge, caught in the snare,
There was no path leading anywhere.
Cornered high above, the world below a blur,
Armar stood defiant, an unwilling cur,
His spirit kindled with the essence of myrrh,
His stolen life hinted in the mystery of fur.
Caught in a web weaved by cruel fate,
His fleeting world collapsed under the weight,
All he wanted was to clean his slate,
How cruel, to stumble upon the gate too late.
Leaden silence, a cruel mockery played,
His stolen prize basked in the charade,
His dreams bleeding out, caught in the fray,
The end of the line, or perhaps a new day.
This story was generated by user joshua71 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Hey, My name is Armaros Deandre but you can call me Armar and I’m fourteen. This is the story of how my life went from bad to worse… I had to get out of this city for once and for all, I was done with New York, I was done dealing with people around me blaming me every time something went wrong so I left. I hate stealing in general but to the people who have been making my life a living hell ever since I can remember and I decided to make a one time exception just for them. I ran up the stairs past the lounge and took a right turn right through the double doors into the office. My eyes were sharpened in the darkness and every tiny little noise made me jump. I could feel the vibrations through the floor and hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. I slowly opened the bottom drawer and pulled the box where all the money was kept. I pulled the paperclip out of my pocket and bent it into the perfect shape. I turned the clip left and right and the lock made a soft click as it opened. I grabbed the black and silver coin in it, locked it and put it away hastily shutting the drawer. I froze, someone was turning the door handle. I knew I had seconds to hide so I dove behind the thick black curtains by the windows. The door opened and three people walked in talking and having a heated debate. Only too late did I realize that I left the paperclip on the desk with the chair four feet away from where it started. The guy in the black suit noticed it and frowned, instinctively he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out his key. It opened and he froze… One of the security guards that walked in with him coughed and asked “Is everything okay sir?” The “boss” looked up and raised his voice 'NO everything is not okay’ and chucked the little black money box at the wall ‘LOCK DOWN THE BUILDING, NO ONE LEAVES UNLESS I SAY SO!” The security guards ran out the doors and yelled in their comms “LOCK DOWN THE BUILDING NOW!” The boss overturned his desk and stormed out the door slamming it shut behind him. I quietly moved out of my hiding place and for the first time I noticed an envelope on the floor right by my foot so I did the only thing I should not have done, I picked it up and opened it, I frowned. I had dyslexia and ADHD. I couldn't read this but still I looked at the paper, the words were written in some of the language but somehow I recognized some of the words and phrases like, “Suspects nothing’ and ‘Armaros” I froze… No one and I mean no one knew my full name except me, so what was it doing on this letter? I wanted to get out of that building as fast as possible so I balled the letter up, shoved it in my pocket and ran. I pushed past security guards and other kids but I didn’t care, I just wanted to put as much distance between me and my room as possible in as little time I could. I was almost to the doors when I saw them. The guards standing in front of the doors with the ‘boss’ smiling cruelly trying to hide his fury that ‘someone’ was able to sneak into his office without getting caught by the guards or the cameras. I looked for another way out but every door that led outside was blocked by two guards and or had an active camera watching the exit. There was no way out… except for one way but I hated it, but it was the only way. I turned and bolted towards the stairs as fast as I possibly could and then I looked back towards them… That was a mistake. My eyes met with Mr. ‘Infuriated Boss Guy’ and he yelled something, he knew I was the thief. I ran through the door and slammed it shut behind me with the final view of dozens of guards running towards me. I bolted up the stairs and without looking back… I stumbled through the roof door of the building and ran to the edge and stopped. I was twenty-three stories above the road with no way down. I turned around to see ‘the boss’ smiling cruelly at me with ten guards on each side of him. ‘Did you really think that you could get away with this?’ I responded with ‘uh maybe…’ he laughed ‘end of the line, give it back now.’ I faked a puzzled and clueless ‘Give what back?’ he growled, ‘the coin, Now!’
Response: Resplendent in moonlight, cast anew, There stood a lad of years just fourteen, Across the skyline his tale told in view, Of tarnished innocence, and hands unclean. Armaros Deandre his name, Armar his claim, In the heart of New York, a teeming maw, Tired of unjust blame, and life's cruel game, He sought escape but found only flaw. In grudging sin, he traversed the night, A stolen coin gleaming with silvery might, Every footfall ringing with hallowed fright, Into the abyss of a reckless plight. With pulse throbbing in his youthful ears, His path traced through shadow-touched tears, And as he toiled, his worst fears, Unravelled in echoes of passing years. His hand had worked the lock's cold lick, A seductive whisper, a paperclip's cruel trick, Yet the box yawned at his desperate prick, As time slipped through its relentless tick. No sooner had the coin kissed his palm, His sanctuary ruptured with a sickening calm, A curt demand, an alarm, His shadowed theatre began to swarm. Evasive action, an envelope snatched, His name etched in a plot so hatched. Penned in jumbled words, but one thing matched, ‘Armaros,’ it read, a secret he had thatched. Adrenaline urged him forward, away he sped, Past prying eyes and truths best left dead, Each stride echoing fear's fiery thread, Towards a looming precipice of dread. His eyes locked with the boss' glare, His stolen prize drawing the intense stare, Breath taut on the edge, caught in the snare, There was no path leading anywhere. Cornered high above, the world below a blur, Armar stood defiant, an unwilling cur, His spirit kindled with the essence of myrrh, His stolen life hinted in the mystery of fur. Caught in a web weaved by cruel fate, His fleeting world collapsed under the weight, All he wanted was to clean his slate, How cruel, to stumble upon the gate too late. Leaden silence, a cruel mockery played, His stolen prize basked in the charade, His dreams bleeding out, caught in the fray, The end of the line, or perhaps a new day.
Post your own comment or use AI: