Welcome to Flash Fiction Fridays! Every Friday I use conversational AI to generate a new flash fiction prompt inspired by the changes and updates to my digital garden.
Flash fiction is a unique and challenging form of writing that requires creativity, brevity, and skill. By using conversational AI to generate the prompt, I’m tapping into the power of machine learning to come up with interesting and unexpected ideas that I might not have thought of otherwise.
I use the weekly changes and updates to my digital garden as a starting point for the AI to generate the prompt. The prompts are designed to be open-ended and flexible, allowing me to explore a wide range of themes and genres that are aligned with my interests and experiences. And thats not all, there is a piece of AI generated art to go with every story as well! If you want to dive deeper, check out the updates to my digital garden.
In a startling epiphany, a protagonist discovers that his insecurities are not mere psychological constructs, but rather physical beings that have taken up residence inside him, forcing him to engage in a tense and protracted negotiation in order to reclaim ownership of his body, and his life.
He saw them, he could feel them, hear them. A presence within him. These feelings of despair used to be just that – feelings. In an instant, everything had changed. These thoughts had turned into autonomous entities that could be observed and studied. Had he fallen asleep?
He saw them down there, all of them. A small group of people, maybe five or so, sitting at a conference table. A single fluorescent light source shined harshly from above, drowning out the rest of the space in darkness. They were arguing, discussing, murmuring inaudibly, throwing their hands into the air and slamming them back down onto the table. A fiery debate.
He recognized them, each and every one of them. Their faces bore the weight of their pain, manifesting in shades of life experiences and wrinkles. Their eyes revealed a restlessness that seemed to spawn across generations. It was obvious. These were his demons, these were the hurt bunch that worked so tirelessly to protect him.
As he approached them, fragments of the conversation slowly became discernible. They were trying to stop him from going to an upcoming and rather large social gathering. Like a bunch of mischievous gnomes, they plotted and schemed, paying no attention to his presence. Who was in control here? He decided to make himself heard with a resounding clap that echoed endlessly into the darkness. Everything stopped. The five heads turned in unison to this figure that emerged into the light.
He took a seat at the table and started listening to them. They all had so much to say, so many concerns to share. They pulled from a seemingly infinite repertoire of past experiences to construct a future riddled with pain and suffering, a future they wanted to avoid at all cost. There was a childlike quality to them, an innocence that had been twisted by a life of agony. What lied behind the mountains and valleys that spread across their faces, was innocence and a primordial longing for affection and love.
At first, the conversation was one-sided. They talked, he listened. But soon their confessions turned into demands. A long list of don’ts and never’s that was supposed to protect him from their fate. It was a strange feeling, he saw them as individuals, separate from his character. He did not feel their pain, and yet, he recognized them as past selves, he saw them as a part of his life that had spawn from the beginning of time all the way to this very instant. He knew that the only way back was to help them find some resemblance of tranquility.
They were locked down here in this room that was no room. Ghosts from the past stuck, trying to prevent their numbers from growing. All he could really do is listen to them, to give them the privilege of being heard. And so, after what felt like an eternity, one by one they fell into a deep slumber. These snapshots of past pain had no real power.