**Eclipse: A Tale of Shadows and Kindness**
0 Points
0
**The Devil’s Lament**
*A Mystery by [Assistant]*
---
Eva Morello stood behind the obsidian-topped bar, polishing a glass for the third time. Saturday nights at Eclipse, her high-end Midtown nightclub, were always manic. But for Eva, who’d owned the place since the summer she turned twenty-five, chaos was comforting. People—humans and a handful of things pretending to be human—buzzed through the velvet-lit gloom, each with their own secret reasons for being there. Some came for the drinks. Some came to forget. Some came for business that had no place in the sunlight.
She saw everything.
She heard even more.
Tonight, a small commotion caught her attention at the door. Boris, the mountainous doorman, held the velvet rope like a scepter. On the other side, a man argued with him in a clipped, impatient tone. He was expensive-looking, in a long, ink-black coat too warm for summer. His eyes, ice-blue, flashed dangerously.
Boris shrugged, said something low, and finally stepped aside. The man strode inside, the air seeming to bend around him. Eva tensed. The regulars—shapeshifters, soothsayers, a few city councilmen—watched, then turned away. They had an instinct for trouble.
The man went straight to the bar.
“I’ll have bourbon,” he snapped, voice low and hoarse. He didn’t meet her gaze.
Eva’s first impulse was to snap back. Instead, she got his measure as she set the glass down. Gaunt, dark hollows under his eyes, jaw locked. He looked like hell. Like rage and exhaustion stitched together with too much pride.
“Rough night?” she asked, cool but civil.
He glowered. “Just pour.”
She did, sliding the glass over without another word. Few things set her off like rudeness—she’d broken a regular’s nose for less. But something in this man’s posture stopped her. He barely touched the drink, holding it as if he didn’t trust it, or her.
He’d been running, she guessed. From something, or someone. He looked haunted, like the hounds were closing in.
Her instincts prickled. Not human, her inner voice warned. Not quite. She’d seen that tautness before, in others who wandered in from the city’s shadowy underworld, supernatural or otherwise.
For an hour, she watched him from her post as he nursed his drink, sometimes staring at the patterns in the bar’s granite veins, sometimes at the exit, sometimes—though rarely—at the other guests. Every few minutes, his hand darted to his pocket as if checking for something. Once or twice, Eva caught him clenching his fist so hard his knuckles whitened.
Finally, he flagged her over with two fingers. “Same again,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.
She obliged, and as she poured, she said quietly, “Drink’s on the house. You look like you need it more than I need the cash.”
He sneered. “I don’t want your charity.”
“My guests rarely do. But they usually appreciate courtesy.” She held his gaze coolly.
He shrank back, just a fraction, and for a split second, she saw fear flicker behind the bravado. Then his lips flattened. “You’re nosy,” he rasped.
“I’m observant,” she corrected. “That’s what keeps this place safe. And there are rules here, friend. You’d do well to remember that.” She slid the bourbon across the bar and left him staring at her, jaw working.
Eva circled from behind the bar, weaving through the crowd, but keeping her eyes on him. He tensed when she wasn’t looking, hand drifting to his pocket again, mouth pressed into a line.
She returned to the bar and poured herself an espresso. Katya, the cocktail sorceress, glanced at her. “Something off with the guy in black?”
“Everything,” Eva muttered.
“You want me to take a look?” Katya’s eyes flickered, rainbow and reptilian.
“Not yet. He’s not going to start trouble. He’s running from it.”
Katya shrugged, melted into the crowd.
As the hours ticked past, Eva kept the man in sight, trusting her intuition. After his second drink, he stopped drinking altogether, just sat staring into his glass. Midnight came, and a lull fell over Eclipse; the crowd thinned out, the DJ’s set went low and dreamy. Only a handful of regulars lingered, whispering at shadowy tables.
From the corner of her eye, Eva watched him finally leave his stool. He moved with the sharp, wary grace of a hunted animal. He made for the back exit, the one near the storage room. Quietly, Eva followed, careful to avoid the slick patches of spilled tequila someone hadn’t mopped up.
She found him in the alley, pressing his forehead against the cool brick, breathing heavily.
She coughed gently.
He spun, eyes wild. For the first time, she saw the glint of something other in those eyes—something old, and tired, and proud.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And why do you care?”
She shrugged. “You were rude to me, but you’re clearly in trouble. I don’t ignore people in trouble inside my club. Especially not tonight.”
He laughed, or tried to. It came out like a croak.
“Nothing you can do, barkeep. Not for me. Better go back inside before you pick up a curse or two.”
Eva met his gaze steadily. “Try me. I’ve seen worse.” She paused. “You’re being hunted, aren’t you?”
He hesitated, then looked back at the bricks.
“Every step. Every hour. I thought this place was... neutral ground.”
“It is. No magic, no claws, no violence—house rules.”
He snorted. “Rules. The only thing everyone breaks.”
Silence filled the alley, broken only by the distant thump of music.
She moved a step closer. “You have a name?”
He almost smiled. “Once. Most call me Samael now.”
Eva’s blood chilled.
The fallen. The outcast. The one the monsters feared.
She swallowed. “And what do you need, Samael?”
He met her eyes, and the mask slipped. For a heartbeat, she saw the whole, battered soul behind it. Someone who had lost everything but would rather die than plead.
“I need to go home,” he whispered. “But I’m not sure I remember how.”
He slumped against the wall, all the bravado draining away. “Everyone here wants to use me, or destroy me, or feed off me. I am—” He swallowed. “I was power. I was everything. Now I’m nothing. Just a man with something in his pocket that everyone wants.”
Eva didn’t flinch. She sat beside him on an empty crate.
She considered everything she’d seen: the wary looks from the regulars, the way he checked his pockets, the fear at the door, the pain in every line of his body.
Not all monsters looked like monsters. Not all lost souls wore their scars where she could see them.
“You don’t have to ask for help,” she said quietly. “You just have to let someone offer it.”
Samael closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath.
“I could get you out,” she offered, “safe, no questions asked. Or—if what you’re carrying is dangerous—I could lock it away. Eclipse has safes no one has cracked. Not yet. Or, maybe, you just need someone to remind you how to find a way home.”
He looked at her, lips trembling.
“You’re braver than you look, barkeep,” he whispered.
Eva smiled softly. “I run this place. I’ve seen worse.”
He hesitated, then slipped his hand from his pocket. On his palm: a coin. Black as space, etched with runes she couldn’t read.
She recognized the feeling in the air—it hummed, ancient and full of destiny.
“Gatekeeper’s coin,” she murmured. “You really have been running.”
He nodded. “If I give this up, I lose what little claim I have left. But if I keep it, I’ll never be free. And neither will the ones hunting me. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Wanting to be free of yourself?”
Eva remembered her own shadows—the reason she never left Eclipse after midnight, the curse stitched into her blood from the night she’d saved a witch’s life.
She reached out and gently closed his fingers around the coin.
“I do,” she said.
He sobbed, once, silently.
For a long moment, they sat in solidarity. In that alley, with the city’s neon reflected on puddles, hunted and hunter called a truce, and something shifted—a kindness restored to both.
When he finally stood, he offered her the coin.
“I trust you,” he said. “Keep it safe, until I know what to do.”
She took it, feeling its cold weight settle into her palm.
Back inside, Eva locked the coin in her hidden safe. Samael stood beside her, hands trembling, but his eyes—human now, only tired—held a trace of hope.
She poured him one last drink—on the house, no questions.
As dawn crept into the city, her club safe in the silence, Eva understood: in a world of secrets and suspicion, sometimes mercy was the bravest act of all.
And that night, beneath immortal neon, two lost souls found each other in the mystery of kindness.
---
*For every monster that walks into the night, there is a club, a keeper, and a safe place to ask for help. In Eclipse, that was Eva Morello’s signature: a mystery solved not with fists, but with observation—and heart.*
This story was generated by user kitty.cat07 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: Write a very long story about a young club owner who was treated rudely by one of the guests at her nightclub. She immediately guessed that the man needed help. The woman was a good observer and knew about the people and other creatures that visited her nightclub. She could see that the man needed help, but was clearly too proud to ask for it. The woman watched him closely from behind the bar, following his every move. She wondered how to approach him and talk to him so that he wouldn't treat her rudely again. At first she wanted to punch him in the face for his rude behavior, but she decided to approach the situation calmly.
Response: **The Devil’s Lament** *A Mystery by [Assistant]* --- Eva Morello stood behind the obsidian-topped bar, polishing a glass for the third time. Saturday nights at Eclipse, her high-end Midtown nightclub, were always manic. But for Eva, who’d owned the place since the summer she turned twenty-five, chaos was comforting. People—humans and a handful of things pretending to be human—buzzed through the velvet-lit gloom, each with their own secret reasons for being there. Some came for the drinks. Some came to forget. Some came for business that had no place in the sunlight. She saw everything. She heard even more. Tonight, a small commotion caught her attention at the door. Boris, the mountainous doorman, held the velvet rope like a scepter. On the other side, a man argued with him in a clipped, impatient tone. He was expensive-looking, in a long, ink-black coat too warm for summer. His eyes, ice-blue, flashed dangerously. Boris shrugged, said something low, and finally stepped aside. The man strode inside, the air seeming to bend around him. Eva tensed. The regulars—shapeshifters, soothsayers, a few city councilmen—watched, then turned away. They had an instinct for trouble. The man went straight to the bar. “I’ll have bourbon,” he snapped, voice low and hoarse. He didn’t meet her gaze. Eva’s first impulse was to snap back. Instead, she got his measure as she set the glass down. Gaunt, dark hollows under his eyes, jaw locked. He looked like hell. Like rage and exhaustion stitched together with too much pride. “Rough night?” she asked, cool but civil. He glowered. “Just pour.” She did, sliding the glass over without another word. Few things set her off like rudeness—she’d broken a regular’s nose for less. But something in this man’s posture stopped her. He barely touched the drink, holding it as if he didn’t trust it, or her. He’d been running, she guessed. From something, or someone. He looked haunted, like the hounds were closing in. Her instincts prickled. Not human, her inner voice warned. Not quite. She’d seen that tautness before, in others who wandered in from the city’s shadowy underworld, supernatural or otherwise. For an hour, she watched him from her post as he nursed his drink, sometimes staring at the patterns in the bar’s granite veins, sometimes at the exit, sometimes—though rarely—at the other guests. Every few minutes, his hand darted to his pocket as if checking for something. Once or twice, Eva caught him clenching his fist so hard his knuckles whitened. Finally, he flagged her over with two fingers. “Same again,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. She obliged, and as she poured, she said quietly, “Drink’s on the house. You look like you need it more than I need the cash.” He sneered. “I don’t want your charity.” “My guests rarely do. But they usually appreciate courtesy.” She held his gaze coolly. He shrank back, just a fraction, and for a split second, she saw fear flicker behind the bravado. Then his lips flattened. “You’re nosy,” he rasped. “I’m observant,” she corrected. “That’s what keeps this place safe. And there are rules here, friend. You’d do well to remember that.” She slid the bourbon across the bar and left him staring at her, jaw working. Eva circled from behind the bar, weaving through the crowd, but keeping her eyes on him. He tensed when she wasn’t looking, hand drifting to his pocket again, mouth pressed into a line. She returned to the bar and poured herself an espresso. Katya, the cocktail sorceress, glanced at her. “Something off with the guy in black?” “Everything,” Eva muttered. “You want me to take a look?” Katya’s eyes flickered, rainbow and reptilian. “Not yet. He’s not going to start trouble. He’s running from it.” Katya shrugged, melted into the crowd. As the hours ticked past, Eva kept the man in sight, trusting her intuition. After his second drink, he stopped drinking altogether, just sat staring into his glass. Midnight came, and a lull fell over Eclipse; the crowd thinned out, the DJ’s set went low and dreamy. Only a handful of regulars lingered, whispering at shadowy tables. From the corner of her eye, Eva watched him finally leave his stool. He moved with the sharp, wary grace of a hunted animal. He made for the back exit, the one near the storage room. Quietly, Eva followed, careful to avoid the slick patches of spilled tequila someone hadn’t mopped up. She found him in the alley, pressing his forehead against the cool brick, breathing heavily. She coughed gently. He spun, eyes wild. For the first time, she saw the glint of something other in those eyes—something old, and tired, and proud. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And why do you care?” She shrugged. “You were rude to me, but you’re clearly in trouble. I don’t ignore people in trouble inside my club. Especially not tonight.” He laughed, or tried to. It came out like a croak. “Nothing you can do, barkeep. Not for me. Better go back inside before you pick up a curse or two.” Eva met his gaze steadily. “Try me. I’ve seen worse.” She paused. “You’re being hunted, aren’t you?” He hesitated, then looked back at the bricks. “Every step. Every hour. I thought this place was... neutral ground.” “It is. No magic, no claws, no violence—house rules.” He snorted. “Rules. The only thing everyone breaks.” Silence filled the alley, broken only by the distant thump of music. She moved a step closer. “You have a name?” He almost smiled. “Once. Most call me Samael now.” Eva’s blood chilled. The fallen. The outcast. The one the monsters feared. She swallowed. “And what do you need, Samael?” He met her eyes, and the mask slipped. For a heartbeat, she saw the whole, battered soul behind it. Someone who had lost everything but would rather die than plead. “I need to go home,” he whispered. “But I’m not sure I remember how.” He slumped against the wall, all the bravado draining away. “Everyone here wants to use me, or destroy me, or feed off me. I am—” He swallowed. “I was power. I was everything. Now I’m nothing. Just a man with something in his pocket that everyone wants.” Eva didn’t flinch. She sat beside him on an empty crate. She considered everything she’d seen: the wary looks from the regulars, the way he checked his pockets, the fear at the door, the pain in every line of his body. Not all monsters looked like monsters. Not all lost souls wore their scars where she could see them. “You don’t have to ask for help,” she said quietly. “You just have to let someone offer it.” Samael closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath. “I could get you out,” she offered, “safe, no questions asked. Or—if what you’re carrying is dangerous—I could lock it away. Eclipse has safes no one has cracked. Not yet. Or, maybe, you just need someone to remind you how to find a way home.” He looked at her, lips trembling. “You’re braver than you look, barkeep,” he whispered. Eva smiled softly. “I run this place. I’ve seen worse.” He hesitated, then slipped his hand from his pocket. On his palm: a coin. Black as space, etched with runes she couldn’t read. She recognized the feeling in the air—it hummed, ancient and full of destiny. “Gatekeeper’s coin,” she murmured. “You really have been running.” He nodded. “If I give this up, I lose what little claim I have left. But if I keep it, I’ll never be free. And neither will the ones hunting me. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Wanting to be free of yourself?” Eva remembered her own shadows—the reason she never left Eclipse after midnight, the curse stitched into her blood from the night she’d saved a witch’s life. She reached out and gently closed his fingers around the coin. “I do,” she said. He sobbed, once, silently. For a long moment, they sat in solidarity. In that alley, with the city’s neon reflected on puddles, hunted and hunter called a truce, and something shifted—a kindness restored to both. When he finally stood, he offered her the coin. “I trust you,” he said. “Keep it safe, until I know what to do.” She took it, feeling its cold weight settle into her palm. Back inside, Eva locked the coin in her hidden safe. Samael stood beside her, hands trembling, but his eyes—human now, only tired—held a trace of hope. She poured him one last drink—on the house, no questions. As dawn crept into the city, her club safe in the silence, Eva understood: in a world of secrets and suspicion, sometimes mercy was the bravest act of all. And that night, beneath immortal neon, two lost souls found each other in the mystery of kindness. --- *For every monster that walks into the night, there is a club, a keeper, and a safe place to ask for help. In Eclipse, that was Eva Morello’s signature: a mystery solved not with fists, but with observation—and heart.*
Post your own comment or use AI: