combined.json

[
  {
    "id": "1e21553b47944b67bc2cdf67860d8e15",
    "story": "There's a beach on the Southern coast of California where the sky is pink and orange and palm trees in the view. The ocean is lightly roaring and crashing on the sand. The sound of traffic is muted by a beautiful voice. A song calling from just beyond vision's reach.\nDaniel searched for the source. The song continued. Daniel walked closer to the water and peered out into the deep. Then, in the moment he saw her, the sky went black and time came to a stand still; A mermaid was sitting on a rock.\nDaniel rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He called out, and waved. The mermaid waved back and motioned him to come over. Daniel, had no way out to the rock. He ran up and down the beach, past the frozen people, looking for a board or floaty, something that would let him cross the water. Finding no suitable options, he yelled \"One second!\" and headed toward the marina.\nDaniel was no expert on boating but, he knew enough to get one running. He did not know enough to avoid bumping into the boat behind him. To his great annoyance, he watched as one of the frozen people fell overboard. He jumped in after them, got them out, and righted them on the boat. Returning to the one he'd started, he headed toward the rocks.\nAbout halfway there, he noticed that the song the mermaid was singing had stopped. As he got closer, the mermaid got larger and decidedly gray. For the second time that day, Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. He lost focus on what was around him and panicked when he realized he was about to crash. The seal jumped from the rocks as the boat shortly met them, knocking Daniel unconscious.\nHe woke up staring at a bright florescent light. He could hear his father talking to the doctors and police. Daniel thought it was best to stay quiet. He closed his eyes to wait for the coast to clear. When he opened them again he was on the beach and the seal was standing next to him. It began singing the same beautiful song. Just as Daniel was about to speak, the seal flopped into the ocean, the sky turned from black back to orange and pink, the world resumed around him.\nHe shook his head trying to wake up from this dream but, could not. He screamed and suddenly found himself back in the hospital bed. He lifted his head and asked for water. His father began saying something to him. Unfortunately or for the better, depending on the perspective, Daniel heard none of it. Instead he fell back down into a deep sleep.\nHe awoke on the beach. The breeze was warm against his skin. The seal was standing next to him, singing the same song before flopping into the water. This time, Daniel ran after. He jumped in and reached out to grab its back when SNAP! the seal whipped its tail right into Daniel's ribs.\nHe let out a gasp and suddenly had no air. He jolted towards the surface.\n\"We don't know why he did it, honey.\" his mother offered to his father.\n\"I know you love him. I do too. But, he has got to go to rehab. Someone could have been seriously hurt not to mention how much it's all going to cost to fix all of this. Rehab, or he's out of the house.\" Daniel heard his father reply.\nHe broke through the surface and grimaced in pain. He looked for the shore but it was nowhere to be seen. The seal popped up next to him. It batted its eyes before showing its teeth and dove beneath Daniel. A moment of fear swept over him. He didn't know what to do. He stuck his face into the water to see the seal speeding towards him. WHACK\nDaniel felt his mother's hand holding his as she sat silently next to him. \"Hey, mo-\" Daniel tried before falling back to sleep.\nDaniel was flying through the air just above the water. He saw a trail of blood streaming from his face and the seal keeping pace just after. He looked to the sky and remembered, the dream is his. Rather than landing violently, Daniel slid to a stop on the water's surface before dropping gently beneath it. The seal was viciously streaming right at him. He held out his arm and the seal bit down hard. Only, the teeth didn't break the skin, the skin broke the teeth. Daniel smiled wide and brought them back to the beach.\nHe woke up in the hospital and sat upright. Daniel looked his father in the eye and said \"Rehab sounds great to me.\"",
    "summary": "Daniel is a young man who finds himself on a beach on the Southern California coast, where the sky is pink and orange and palm trees are in view. He hears a beautiful song coming from just beyond what he can see and goes to investigate. He finds a mermaid sitting on a rock, but the sky suddenly goes black and time stands still. He runs to the marina to find a boat so he can get to the rock, but bumps into another boat and knocks a frozen person overboard. He jumps in to rescue them and eventually finds himself on the rock with the mermaid, but she has suddenly changed from a beautiful creature into a gray seal. He panics and crashes the boat, knocking himself unconscious. When he wakes up he is in a hospital and his parents are discussing sending him to rehab. Daniel agrees, and then falls back asleep. He wakes up again on the beach and the seal is there, singing the same song. He jumps into the water and the seal bites him, but his skin breaks the teeth. Daniel smiles and brings them back to the beach, and when he wakes up in the hospital again he tells his father rehab is a good idea.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "bb2f48936f8641a69d825f356ae89f7d",
    "story": "There's a beach on the Southern coast of California where the sky is pink and orange and palm trees in the view. The ocean is lightly roaring and crashing on the sand. The sound of traffic is muted by a beautiful voice. A song calling from just beyond vision's reach.\nDaniel searched for the source. The song continued. Daniel walked closer to the water and peered out into the deep. Then, in the moment he saw her, the sky went black and time came to a stand still; A mermaid was sitting on a rock.\nDaniel rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He called out, and waved. The mermaid waved back and motioned him to come over. Daniel, had no way out to the rock. He ran up and down the beach, past the frozen people, looking for a board or floaty, something that would let him cross the water. Finding no suitable options, he yelled \"One second!\" and headed toward the marina.\nDaniel was no expert on boating but, he knew enough to get one running. He did not know enough to avoid bumping into the boat behind him. To his great annoyance, he watched as one of the frozen people fell overboard. He jumped in after them, got them out, and righted them on the boat. Returning to the one he'd started, he headed toward the rocks.\nAbout halfway there, he noticed that the song the mermaid was singing had stopped. As he got closer, the mermaid got larger and decidedly gray. For the second time that day, Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. He lost focus on what was around him and panicked when he realized he was about to crash. The seal jumped from the rocks as the boat shortly met them, knocking Daniel unconscious.\nHe woke up staring at a bright florescent light. He could hear his father talking to the doctors and police. Daniel thought it was best to stay quiet. He closed his eyes to wait for the coast to clear. When he opened them again he was on the beach and the seal was standing next to him. It began singing the same beautiful song. Just as Daniel was about to speak, the seal flopped into the ocean, the sky turned from black back to orange and pink, the world resumed around him.\nHe shook his head trying to wake up from this dream but, could not. He screamed and suddenly found himself back in the hospital bed. He lifted his head and asked for water. His father began saying something to him. Unfortunately or for the better, depending on the perspective, Daniel heard none of it. Instead he fell back down into a deep sleep.\nHe awoke on the beach. The breeze was warm against his skin. The seal was standing next to him, singing the same song before flopping into the water. This time, Daniel ran after. He jumped in and reached out to grab its back when SNAP! the seal whipped its tail right into Daniel's ribs.\nHe let out a gasp and suddenly had no air. He jolted towards the surface.\n\"We don't know why he did it, honey.\" his mother offered to his father.\n\"I know you love him. I do too. But, he has got to go to rehab. Someone could have been seriously hurt not to mention how much it's all going to cost to fix all of this. Rehab, or he's out of the house.\" Daniel heard his father reply.\nHe broke through the surface and grimaced in pain. He looked for the shore but it was nowhere to be seen. The seal popped up next to him. It batted its eyes before showing its teeth and dove beneath Daniel. A moment of fear swept over him. He didn't know what to do. He stuck his face into the water to see the seal speeding towards him. WHACK\nDaniel felt his mother's hand holding his as she sat silently next to him. \"Hey, mo-\" Daniel tried before falling back to sleep.\nDaniel was flying through the air just above the water. He saw a trail of blood streaming from his face and the seal keeping pace just after. He looked to the sky and remembered, the dream is his. Rather than landing violently, Daniel slid to a stop on the water's surface before dropping gently beneath it. The seal was viciously streaming right at him. He held out his arm and the seal bit down hard. Only, the teeth didn't break the skin, the skin broke the teeth. Daniel smiled wide and brought them back to the beach.\nHe woke up in the hospital and sat upright. Daniel looked his father in the eye and said \"Rehab sounds great to me.\"",
    "summary": "A man named Daniel is walking on a beach in California when he hears a beautiful song. He follows the song and sees a mermaid sitting on a rock, waving him over. Daniel tries to find a way to reach her, but in the process of getting a boat, he hits a frozen person and falls unconscious. He wakes up in a hospital and falls back asleep. In his dream, he is back on the beach with the mermaid, and the seal attacks him, causing him to wake up again. He hears his father talking about his rehab and decides to accept it.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
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      0
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  },
  {
    "id": "5dcae5af26a941a6bf03ac044f86c6ab",
    "story": "There's a beach on the Southern coast of California where the sky is pink and orange and palm trees in the view. The ocean is lightly roaring and crashing on the sand. The sound of traffic is muted by a beautiful voice. A song calling from just beyond vision's reach.\nDaniel searched for the source. The song continued. Daniel walked closer to the water and peered out into the deep. Then, in the moment he saw her, the sky went black and time came to a stand still; A mermaid was sitting on a rock.\nDaniel rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He called out, and waved. The mermaid waved back and motioned him to come over. Daniel, had no way out to the rock. He ran up and down the beach, past the frozen people, looking for a board or floaty, something that would let him cross the water. Finding no suitable options, he yelled \"One second!\" and headed toward the marina.\nDaniel was no expert on boating but, he knew enough to get one running. He did not know enough to avoid bumping into the boat behind him. To his great annoyance, he watched as one of the frozen people fell overboard. He jumped in after them, got them out, and righted them on the boat. Returning to the one he'd started, he headed toward the rocks.\nAbout halfway there, he noticed that the song the mermaid was singing had stopped. As he got closer, the mermaid got larger and decidedly gray. For the second time that day, Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. He lost focus on what was around him and panicked when he realized he was about to crash. The seal jumped from the rocks as the boat shortly met them, knocking Daniel unconscious.\nHe woke up staring at a bright florescent light. He could hear his father talking to the doctors and police. Daniel thought it was best to stay quiet. He closed his eyes to wait for the coast to clear. When he opened them again he was on the beach and the seal was standing next to him. It began singing the same beautiful song. Just as Daniel was about to speak, the seal flopped into the ocean, the sky turned from black back to orange and pink, the world resumed around him.\nHe shook his head trying to wake up from this dream but, could not. He screamed and suddenly found himself back in the hospital bed. He lifted his head and asked for water. His father began saying something to him. Unfortunately or for the better, depending on the perspective, Daniel heard none of it. Instead he fell back down into a deep sleep.\nHe awoke on the beach. The breeze was warm against his skin. The seal was standing next to him, singing the same song before flopping into the water. This time, Daniel ran after. He jumped in and reached out to grab its back when SNAP! the seal whipped its tail right into Daniel's ribs.\nHe let out a gasp and suddenly had no air. He jolted towards the surface.\n\"We don't know why he did it, honey.\" his mother offered to his father.\n\"I know you love him. I do too. But, he has got to go to rehab. Someone could have been seriously hurt not to mention how much it's all going to cost to fix all of this. Rehab, or he's out of the house.\" Daniel heard his father reply.\nHe broke through the surface and grimaced in pain. He looked for the shore but it was nowhere to be seen. The seal popped up next to him. It batted its eyes before showing its teeth and dove beneath Daniel. A moment of fear swept over him. He didn't know what to do. He stuck his face into the water to see the seal speeding towards him. WHACK\nDaniel felt his mother's hand holding his as she sat silently next to him. \"Hey, mo-\" Daniel tried before falling back to sleep.\nDaniel was flying through the air just above the water. He saw a trail of blood streaming from his face and the seal keeping pace just after. He looked to the sky and remembered, the dream is his. Rather than landing violently, Daniel slid to a stop on the water's surface before dropping gently beneath it. The seal was viciously streaming right at him. He held out his arm and the seal bit down hard. Only, the teeth didn't break the skin, the skin broke the teeth. Daniel smiled wide and brought them back to the beach.\nHe woke up in the hospital and sat upright. Daniel looked his father in the eye and said \"Rehab sounds great to me.\"",
    "summary": "Daniel is walking on a beach in Southern California when he notices a mermaid sitting on a rock singing a beautiful song. As he gets closer to investigate, time freezes around him. He tries to find a way to get to the rock where the mermaid is sitting. After bumping into frozen people and boats, he makes it to the rock only to find that the mermaid has turned into a seal. He crashes his boat and gets knocked unconscious. He then seems to wake up multiple times, alternating between being on the beach with the seal and in the hospital. The experiences blur together and it's unclear what is real. In the end, after a series of chaotic and surreal events, Daniel agrees to go to rehab. The story appears to depict a man grappling with reality and struggling with substance abuse or mental health issues.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      1,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "c6799a45e9b344268da6bcc6da0caa4b",
    "story": "Aphrodite, goddess of lust, lov and beauty, the very image of a blonde model, sat on the dais of Olympus. She was anxiously chewing on her thumbnail, staring down at the Earth below her, \"That...stupid... internet. How could it say Athena's fairer than me? HOW DARE... AND 2 DAYS BEFORE MY HOLIDAY\"\nAthena, goddess of war an intelligence, sporting a crew cut, digicamo, and heads-up-display, was smirking nearby. As gods gained power from the adoration of their followers and interest in their domain, the poll, combined with the tech-flaunting in some recent wars, had given her a boost, and she was literally outshining Aphrodite next to her. \"Oh please, Aphrodite... you can't fight the ebb and flow of time. War always wins out over peace, and greater gods eventually consume the identity of lesser gods. It's only a matter of time until your power becomes mine.\"\nWith this, Athena walked off, laughing haughtily.\nAfter she was gone, Aphrodite screamed out at the top of her voice, \"CUUUPPIIDDDDD!!!\"\nShortly thereafter, her smaller son appeared, looking exhausted, \"It's shortly before Valentine's day... what's so urgent you'd stop our most important time of year?\"\n\"This...poll... why would I, the goddess of beauty, love, and lust, lose out in a contest of fairness, to that... butch.... erarrggg... regardless. Let's cheat the system. I need you to shoot the entire Earth with an arrow. Direct it's love at me.\"\n\"Mom... my power is a splinter of your power. Even you don't have the power to pull that off, what makes you think I would? And if we have to expend our power to get worship your way, it's just going to be diminishing returns. You'll drain yourself dry.\"\n\"What about boosting the levels of lust again? Is there any way I can get any hotter?\"\nCupid shook his head, \"Sorry, but your looks are an amalgam of all the hottest stars. There's really no way to get you to instigate more lust in individuals. You can raise it on an individual level by playing into fetishes, but that'd just turn you off to people who don't have the fetish. I'm sorry, but you're at max capacity.\"\nAphrodite sighed, \"How.... how did this happen? There's got to be something more. How could Athena pass me? I even tried to reduce her power when that poll started by getting all those tech workers fired.\"\n\"I mainly just handle love at first glance, and you've got game, mom. I really don't know. I'm probably not the best to ask. Mind if I get back to work?\"\n\"Sure hun, thanks for the time.\"\nCupid nodded and flew off, leaving Aphrodite to stew. Who to ask? Ask Athena what her secret is? No. Athena was too combative, she'd just take the opportunity to increase her power over her. There was her ex, Hephaestus... he was smart, so he'd probably have an answer. But... no... she had burned that bridge long ago. With her own dalliances.\nIt had been forever since she had actually descended in person to the mortal realm, mostly relying on Cupid and Hermes to keep her up to date. So, she took a step from the dais, disappearing on her step down, appearing in the finish to that step in downtown Seattle. As always, her fashion instantly matched the time period, though she was a little surprised that gone were the robes and flowing garments of the past, and instead she was in some tight denim pants, and a short cotton top with a few strategically placed holes. The earrings were familiar, though.\nShe had to test, though if she still had it. She walked up to a guy, and pointed at him, \"You! Meet me in a nearby hotel for the night of your life!\"\nThe guy looked taken aback, \"Ma'am, I have a husband who I am completely devoted to! And you simply aren't my type!\"\nWith that, he leaned over and kissed the guy next to him. The guy's husband looked back at her, \"Get lost, Karen. This guy's mine.\"\nAphrodite was taken aback. Being turned down wasn't a thing that happened to her often. To be fair, he was gay and she was plenty aware of gay men not being interested in her, for example, there were the Spartans (Oh, dear herself, were they gay.) But she should have picked up on it sooner. Her power was slipping. And what was that he called her? A Karen?\nHer line of thought was interrupted with a short balding guy in a suit tapped her on the shoulder, \"Excuse me, ma'am, you're lovely, and I was wondering if I could get your number.\" It was a common occurrence for men to randomly flirt with her, \"Oh, I'm the number 1 goddess of love.\"\nHe blinked, \"I mean your phone number.\"\n\"Oh, I don't have a cell phone.\" She'd heard about that, never got involved. They didn't seem all that romantic, but if it was a part of modern human flirting, she'd have to learn, \"...but I could think of a reason you might buy me one.\" One dalliance, hotel room, and one night stand later, she had her first, courtesy of a more-than-grateful businessman. If this was part of standard human flirting practices nowadays, she would have to understand it.",
    "summary": "Aphrodite, goddess of lust, love and beauty, is upset when an Internet poll ranks her as less fair than Athena, goddess of war and intelligence. She tasks Cupid with shooting the Earth with an arrow to direct love to her, but he warns her that it would be diminishing returns. She then descends to the mortal realm to test her power, but is turned down by a gay man who calls her a Karen. She then learns the modern human flirting practices and has a one night stand with a businessman, who buys her a cell phone.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      1
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  },
  {
    "id": "8c0cc43de7b84829a36bf058d2fe7dcd",
    "story": "Aphrodite, goddess of lust, lov and beauty, the very image of a blonde model, sat on the dais of Olympus. She was anxiously chewing on her thumbnail, staring down at the Earth below her, \"That...stupid... internet. How could it say Athena's fairer than me? HOW DARE... AND 2 DAYS BEFORE MY HOLIDAY\"\nAthena, goddess of war an intelligence, sporting a crew cut, digicamo, and heads-up-display, was smirking nearby. As gods gained power from the adoration of their followers and interest in their domain, the poll, combined with the tech-flaunting in some recent wars, had given her a boost, and she was literally outshining Aphrodite next to her. \"Oh please, Aphrodite... you can't fight the ebb and flow of time. War always wins out over peace, and greater gods eventually consume the identity of lesser gods. It's only a matter of time until your power becomes mine.\"\nWith this, Athena walked off, laughing haughtily.\nAfter she was gone, Aphrodite screamed out at the top of her voice, \"CUUUPPIIDDDDD!!!\"\nShortly thereafter, her smaller son appeared, looking exhausted, \"It's shortly before Valentine's day... what's so urgent you'd stop our most important time of year?\"\n\"This...poll... why would I, the goddess of beauty, love, and lust, lose out in a contest of fairness, to that... butch.... erarrggg... regardless. Let's cheat the system. I need you to shoot the entire Earth with an arrow. Direct it's love at me.\"\n\"Mom... my power is a splinter of your power. Even you don't have the power to pull that off, what makes you think I would? And if we have to expend our power to get worship your way, it's just going to be diminishing returns. You'll drain yourself dry.\"\n\"What about boosting the levels of lust again? Is there any way I can get any hotter?\"\nCupid shook his head, \"Sorry, but your looks are an amalgam of all the hottest stars. There's really no way to get you to instigate more lust in individuals. You can raise it on an individual level by playing into fetishes, but that'd just turn you off to people who don't have the fetish. I'm sorry, but you're at max capacity.\"\nAphrodite sighed, \"How.... how did this happen? There's got to be something more. How could Athena pass me? I even tried to reduce her power when that poll started by getting all those tech workers fired.\"\n\"I mainly just handle love at first glance, and you've got game, mom. I really don't know. I'm probably not the best to ask. Mind if I get back to work?\"\n\"Sure hun, thanks for the time.\"\nCupid nodded and flew off, leaving Aphrodite to stew. Who to ask? Ask Athena what her secret is? No. Athena was too combative, she'd just take the opportunity to increase her power over her. There was her ex, Hephaestus... he was smart, so he'd probably have an answer. But... no... she had burned that bridge long ago. With her own dalliances.\nIt had been forever since she had actually descended in person to the mortal realm, mostly relying on Cupid and Hermes to keep her up to date. So, she took a step from the dais, disappearing on her step down, appearing in the finish to that step in downtown Seattle. As always, her fashion instantly matched the time period, though she was a little surprised that gone were the robes and flowing garments of the past, and instead she was in some tight denim pants, and a short cotton top with a few strategically placed holes. The earrings were familiar, though.\nShe had to test, though if she still had it. She walked up to a guy, and pointed at him, \"You! Meet me in a nearby hotel for the night of your life!\"\nThe guy looked taken aback, \"Ma'am, I have a husband who I am completely devoted to! And you simply aren't my type!\"\nWith that, he leaned over and kissed the guy next to him. The guy's husband looked back at her, \"Get lost, Karen. This guy's mine.\"\nAphrodite was taken aback. Being turned down wasn't a thing that happened to her often. To be fair, he was gay and she was plenty aware of gay men not being interested in her, for example, there were the Spartans (Oh, dear herself, were they gay.) But she should have picked up on it sooner. Her power was slipping. And what was that he called her? A Karen?\nHer line of thought was interrupted with a short balding guy in a suit tapped her on the shoulder, \"Excuse me, ma'am, you're lovely, and I was wondering if I could get your number.\" It was a common occurrence for men to randomly flirt with her, \"Oh, I'm the number 1 goddess of love.\"\nHe blinked, \"I mean your phone number.\"\n\"Oh, I don't have a cell phone.\" She'd heard about that, never got involved. They didn't seem all that romantic, but if it was a part of modern human flirting, she'd have to learn, \"...but I could think of a reason you might buy me one.\" One dalliance, hotel room, and one night stand later, she had her first, courtesy of a more-than-grateful businessman. If this was part of standard human flirting practices nowadays, she would have to understand it.",
    "summary": "The story is about the goddess Aphrodite's insecurity and jealousy towards Athena, who has surpassed her in popularity due to a recent poll. Aphrodite turns to her son Cupid for help in cheating the system, but he tells her it's not possible. Aphrodite decides to go down to Earth and try to understand modern human flirting to boost her power. However, she finds herself rejected by a gay man and insulted by being called a \"Karen.\" She eventually gets a businessman to buy her a cell phone, hoping to learn more about modern flirting practices.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      0
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  {
    "id": "a0b5cd1df93c41bebcddd2423e91c090",
    "story": "Aphrodite, goddess of lust, lov and beauty, the very image of a blonde model, sat on the dais of Olympus. She was anxiously chewing on her thumbnail, staring down at the Earth below her, \"That...stupid... internet. How could it say Athena's fairer than me? HOW DARE... AND 2 DAYS BEFORE MY HOLIDAY\"\nAthena, goddess of war an intelligence, sporting a crew cut, digicamo, and heads-up-display, was smirking nearby. As gods gained power from the adoration of their followers and interest in their domain, the poll, combined with the tech-flaunting in some recent wars, had given her a boost, and she was literally outshining Aphrodite next to her. \"Oh please, Aphrodite... you can't fight the ebb and flow of time. War always wins out over peace, and greater gods eventually consume the identity of lesser gods. It's only a matter of time until your power becomes mine.\"\nWith this, Athena walked off, laughing haughtily.\nAfter she was gone, Aphrodite screamed out at the top of her voice, \"CUUUPPIIDDDDD!!!\"\nShortly thereafter, her smaller son appeared, looking exhausted, \"It's shortly before Valentine's day... what's so urgent you'd stop our most important time of year?\"\n\"This...poll... why would I, the goddess of beauty, love, and lust, lose out in a contest of fairness, to that... butch.... erarrggg... regardless. Let's cheat the system. I need you to shoot the entire Earth with an arrow. Direct it's love at me.\"\n\"Mom... my power is a splinter of your power. Even you don't have the power to pull that off, what makes you think I would? And if we have to expend our power to get worship your way, it's just going to be diminishing returns. You'll drain yourself dry.\"\n\"What about boosting the levels of lust again? Is there any way I can get any hotter?\"\nCupid shook his head, \"Sorry, but your looks are an amalgam of all the hottest stars. There's really no way to get you to instigate more lust in individuals. You can raise it on an individual level by playing into fetishes, but that'd just turn you off to people who don't have the fetish. I'm sorry, but you're at max capacity.\"\nAphrodite sighed, \"How.... how did this happen? There's got to be something more. How could Athena pass me? I even tried to reduce her power when that poll started by getting all those tech workers fired.\"\n\"I mainly just handle love at first glance, and you've got game, mom. I really don't know. I'm probably not the best to ask. Mind if I get back to work?\"\n\"Sure hun, thanks for the time.\"\nCupid nodded and flew off, leaving Aphrodite to stew. Who to ask? Ask Athena what her secret is? No. Athena was too combative, she'd just take the opportunity to increase her power over her. There was her ex, Hephaestus... he was smart, so he'd probably have an answer. But... no... she had burned that bridge long ago. With her own dalliances.\nIt had been forever since she had actually descended in person to the mortal realm, mostly relying on Cupid and Hermes to keep her up to date. So, she took a step from the dais, disappearing on her step down, appearing in the finish to that step in downtown Seattle. As always, her fashion instantly matched the time period, though she was a little surprised that gone were the robes and flowing garments of the past, and instead she was in some tight denim pants, and a short cotton top with a few strategically placed holes. The earrings were familiar, though.\nShe had to test, though if she still had it. She walked up to a guy, and pointed at him, \"You! Meet me in a nearby hotel for the night of your life!\"\nThe guy looked taken aback, \"Ma'am, I have a husband who I am completely devoted to! And you simply aren't my type!\"\nWith that, he leaned over and kissed the guy next to him. The guy's husband looked back at her, \"Get lost, Karen. This guy's mine.\"\nAphrodite was taken aback. Being turned down wasn't a thing that happened to her often. To be fair, he was gay and she was plenty aware of gay men not being interested in her, for example, there were the Spartans (Oh, dear herself, were they gay.) But she should have picked up on it sooner. Her power was slipping. And what was that he called her? A Karen?\nHer line of thought was interrupted with a short balding guy in a suit tapped her on the shoulder, \"Excuse me, ma'am, you're lovely, and I was wondering if I could get your number.\" It was a common occurrence for men to randomly flirt with her, \"Oh, I'm the number 1 goddess of love.\"\nHe blinked, \"I mean your phone number.\"\n\"Oh, I don't have a cell phone.\" She'd heard about that, never got involved. They didn't seem all that romantic, but if it was a part of modern human flirting, she'd have to learn, \"...but I could think of a reason you might buy me one.\" One dalliance, hotel room, and one night stand later, she had her first, courtesy of a more-than-grateful businessman. If this was part of standard human flirting practices nowadays, she would have to understand it.",
    "summary": "The goddess Aphrodite is upset that a poll shows Athena, the goddess of war, is considered fairer than her. This threatens Aphrodite's power as the goddess of love and beauty, which comes from worship and interest in her domain. Aphrodite asks her son Cupid to shoot all of Earth with an arrow of love directed at her to fix the problem, but Cupid says he does not have the power to do that and it would not be effective. Aphrodite then decides to travel to the mortal realm herself for the first time in a long while to better understand how human attraction and flirting work nowadays. After being turned down by a gay man, she meets another man who gives her a cell phone after a one night stand. The story suggests that Aphrodite must learn how modern human attraction and relationships work if she wants to maintain her power as the goddess of love.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      1
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  },
  {
    "id": "23595acba8c341369cae2329680f972a",
    "story": "I could still taste the gas station coke I had slurped up before the light pulled me into the night sky. In what felt like seconds, I was swallowed up in a beam of light. I opened my eyes to find myself shivering and naked on a cold metallic table in a hollow white room.\nRestraints kept me down. A strange figure produced a long, semi-transparent instrument filled with blue liquid. They pressed their finger against the instrument and it started whirring a high pitched squeal. The figure next to them raised a finger to their mouth.\nI could hear the high pitched whirring get louder as it neared my ear canal. One of them pressed their cold fingers against my head, holding it in place.\n\u201cNo!!!\u201d\nI screamed, and the hand lifted off my face.\nI jerked my head to look back at them, and saw that they were setting the instrument down. A low hum of trilling emerged from its mouth as it seemed to speak to the others. It then drifted out of sight.\nIn a blink, the white room disappeared from my view, and I was blanketed in complete darkness. A voice came from the darkness. It sounded like an older woman\u2019s voice.\n\u201cJust calm down, for goodness sake. You\u2019re being ridiculous.\u201d\n\u201cWhat? What is happening!!\u201d\nThe woman\u2019s voice became a shrill whisper, like she was scolding a child at church service.\n\u201cYou know exactly what is happening young man, you\u2019re wasting their precious time. Do you know how many patients they have to care for every single night? Absolutely disrespectful.\u201d\nBefore I could reply, a bright flash suddenly blinded me. I opened my eyes and was greeted with the glare of those things again. One extended its hand and stroked my forehead.\n\u201cGet off me! Let me go!\u201d\nThe being retracted its hand. It opened its eyes at me again, this time seemingly more stern, and raised a finger to its mouth once more before grabbing my head and holding it still.\nThe whirring sound started up. I screamed.\nOff in the distance I heard a faint but familiar female voice.\n\u201cOh, shut up, you baby!\u201d\nThe whirring became louder and louder, and culminated in a sudden sharp, burning pain in my ear, followed by a rush of cold liquid. I screamed in agony as the thing holding my head down appeared to roll its large black eyes at me.\nFinally, I was released. I could move again. I jerked my body upward to find that they had all vanished from sight. A lone doorway opened at the opposite end of my table in the bright room.\nAs I emerged from the room back onto familiar wet road, I looked behind me. Nothing. As if the room, the ship, whatever it was, never existed. In my hand, I felt a foreign object was now in my grasp. I glanced down to see what I was holding.\nIt was a lollipop.",
    "summary": "A man is suddenly pulled into a beam of light and finds himself in a strange white room, restrained on a cold metal table. He is met by strange figures who appear to be conducting some kind of experiment on him. They use a strange semi-transparent instrument filled with blue liquid, and then leave abruptly. The man finds himself back on the wet road he was standing on before, with a lollipop in his hand. He is left to wonder what just happened and if it was all real.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "172e75a09ab94fdb897d8f66af667f7b",
    "story": "I could still taste the gas station coke I had slurped up before the light pulled me into the night sky. In what felt like seconds, I was swallowed up in a beam of light. I opened my eyes to find myself shivering and naked on a cold metallic table in a hollow white room.\nRestraints kept me down. A strange figure produced a long, semi-transparent instrument filled with blue liquid. They pressed their finger against the instrument and it started whirring a high pitched squeal. The figure next to them raised a finger to their mouth.\nI could hear the high pitched whirring get louder as it neared my ear canal. One of them pressed their cold fingers against my head, holding it in place.\n\u201cNo!!!\u201d\nI screamed, and the hand lifted off my face.\nI jerked my head to look back at them, and saw that they were setting the instrument down. A low hum of trilling emerged from its mouth as it seemed to speak to the others. It then drifted out of sight.\nIn a blink, the white room disappeared from my view, and I was blanketed in complete darkness. A voice came from the darkness. It sounded like an older woman\u2019s voice.\n\u201cJust calm down, for goodness sake. You\u2019re being ridiculous.\u201d\n\u201cWhat? What is happening!!\u201d\nThe woman\u2019s voice became a shrill whisper, like she was scolding a child at church service.\n\u201cYou know exactly what is happening young man, you\u2019re wasting their precious time. Do you know how many patients they have to care for every single night? Absolutely disrespectful.\u201d\nBefore I could reply, a bright flash suddenly blinded me. I opened my eyes and was greeted with the glare of those things again. One extended its hand and stroked my forehead.\n\u201cGet off me! Let me go!\u201d\nThe being retracted its hand. It opened its eyes at me again, this time seemingly more stern, and raised a finger to its mouth once more before grabbing my head and holding it still.\nThe whirring sound started up. I screamed.\nOff in the distance I heard a faint but familiar female voice.\n\u201cOh, shut up, you baby!\u201d\nThe whirring became louder and louder, and culminated in a sudden sharp, burning pain in my ear, followed by a rush of cold liquid. I screamed in agony as the thing holding my head down appeared to roll its large black eyes at me.\nFinally, I was released. I could move again. I jerked my body upward to find that they had all vanished from sight. A lone doorway opened at the opposite end of my table in the bright room.\nAs I emerged from the room back onto familiar wet road, I looked behind me. Nothing. As if the room, the ship, whatever it was, never existed. In my hand, I felt a foreign object was now in my grasp. I glanced down to see what I was holding.\nIt was a lollipop.",
    "summary": "The protagonist gets abducted by aliens after drinking a gas station coke. They wake up restrained on a table in a white room with strange figures surrounding them. The figures use an instrument that causes the protagonist pain and discomfort. A woman's voice scolds the protagonist for wasting the aliens' time. The figures release the protagonist and give them a lollipop before disappearing, leaving the protagonist alone on a wet road.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "0b08649def5b4a13aa68f784227fc004",
    "story": "I could still taste the gas station coke I had slurped up before the light pulled me into the night sky. In what felt like seconds, I was swallowed up in a beam of light. I opened my eyes to find myself shivering and naked on a cold metallic table in a hollow white room.\nRestraints kept me down. A strange figure produced a long, semi-transparent instrument filled with blue liquid. They pressed their finger against the instrument and it started whirring a high pitched squeal. The figure next to them raised a finger to their mouth.\nI could hear the high pitched whirring get louder as it neared my ear canal. One of them pressed their cold fingers against my head, holding it in place.\n\u201cNo!!!\u201d\nI screamed, and the hand lifted off my face.\nI jerked my head to look back at them, and saw that they were setting the instrument down. A low hum of trilling emerged from its mouth as it seemed to speak to the others. It then drifted out of sight.\nIn a blink, the white room disappeared from my view, and I was blanketed in complete darkness. A voice came from the darkness. It sounded like an older woman\u2019s voice.\n\u201cJust calm down, for goodness sake. You\u2019re being ridiculous.\u201d\n\u201cWhat? What is happening!!\u201d\nThe woman\u2019s voice became a shrill whisper, like she was scolding a child at church service.\n\u201cYou know exactly what is happening young man, you\u2019re wasting their precious time. Do you know how many patients they have to care for every single night? Absolutely disrespectful.\u201d\nBefore I could reply, a bright flash suddenly blinded me. I opened my eyes and was greeted with the glare of those things again. One extended its hand and stroked my forehead.\n\u201cGet off me! Let me go!\u201d\nThe being retracted its hand. It opened its eyes at me again, this time seemingly more stern, and raised a finger to its mouth once more before grabbing my head and holding it still.\nThe whirring sound started up. I screamed.\nOff in the distance I heard a faint but familiar female voice.\n\u201cOh, shut up, you baby!\u201d\nThe whirring became louder and louder, and culminated in a sudden sharp, burning pain in my ear, followed by a rush of cold liquid. I screamed in agony as the thing holding my head down appeared to roll its large black eyes at me.\nFinally, I was released. I could move again. I jerked my body upward to find that they had all vanished from sight. A lone doorway opened at the opposite end of my table in the bright room.\nAs I emerged from the room back onto familiar wet road, I looked behind me. Nothing. As if the room, the ship, whatever it was, never existed. In my hand, I felt a foreign object was now in my grasp. I glanced down to see what I was holding.\nIt was a lollipop.",
    "summary": "A man is abducted from his car while drinking a soda by a beam of light. He wakes up naked and restrained on a cold metallic table inside an all-white room. Strange alien beings attempt to insert a long instrument filled with blue liquid into his ear, causing him immense pain. He protests and shouts at them to stop. A female voice scolds him for wasting the aliens' time and being ridiculous. After another painful attempt, he is suddenly released from the restraints and finds himself back on a wet road, with no sign of the alien ship or room. However, he notices he is now holding a lollipop in his hand.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      0
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  },
  {
    "id": "9126a17d119b411c9909d3336d5c2b0f",
    "story": "It started right on Kristen\u2019s birthday. Instead of the usual festivities and cake, Kristen\u2019s birthday seemed more like a funeral. Kristen\u2019s Dad and her little brother Christian sat quietly in black suits barely able to look at Kristen as they ate dinner. Kristen remembered when her older sister Amber got the same treatment 2 years prior.\n\u201cThank you for a wonderful dinner Dad!\u201d Kristen said as she hugged her father.\n\u201cOf course dear\u201d her Dad muttered, barely holding back grief. \u201cAnything for my little girl\u2019s 21st\u201d.\n\u201cDad what is going to happen to Kristen?\u201d Christian asked.\nHer Dad did not respond, and continued to slowly eat.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back,\u201d Kristen said awkwardly as she got up.\nAs she walked away, she could hear the sounds of her father crying in the dining room, and the pleas of her little brother for any semblance of an understanding to the situation.\nAs Kristen went into her room, she looked at the mirror on her closet door and screamed.\n\u201cMy tooth is missing\u201d Kristen cried,\nAs she continued to stare into the mirror, she watched as each of her teeth slowly began to fade away. Kristen tried to call out to her father, but as she did her tongue begun to disappear as well. In a state of pure shock, Kristen\u2019s legs buckled and fell to the floor. As she tried to get up, Kristen looked on in horror as her feet began to retract into her calves.\n\u201cDad what\u2019s happening to her!\u201d Christian screamed.\n\u201cYour damn mother happened Christian\u201d The Dad exclaimed between panicked breaths \u201cthat witch sold us out for her own damn benefit!\u201d\nWhile Kristen\u2019s family was very well off now, for the first 12 years of her life they lived in extreme poverty. She remembered that almost overnight their luck began to turn around, and that shortly after her mother vanished without a trace. Kristen then recalled how her sister Kali disappeared from her dorm on her 21st birthday.\nAs Kristen pondered these things, she could feel her arms and legs going deeper into her torso as if her whole body was closing in on itself. She turned her head to look at the mirror, and to her horror saw that her whole body had begun to evaporate, leaving her with just her organs, spine, and head.\nPiece by piece, each of her remaining internal organs shrunk to the size of a pea before disappearing from sight. She could no longer hear the cries of her brother and father, but she could still feel her eyes closing in on themselves similar to how a hand closes into a fist. Finally after an excruciating 21 minutes, Kristen Santos had been reduced to a vile final memory. As her father and little brother got up, they turned around to see the youngest sibling Anne standing in the doorway.\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry Pumpkin\u201d the Dad muttered shakily as he picked her up. \u201cI\u2019m so fucking sorry\u201d.",
    "summary": "On her 21st birthday, Kristen Santos experiences a strange phenomenon in which her body begins to disappear piece by piece. Her teeth, tongue, and extremities slowly fade away until she is left with just her organs, spine, and head. After 21 minutes, Kristen has been reduced to a memory and her father and brother can only look on in grief, knowing that her mother had sold them out for her own benefit. Kristen\u2019s sister Kali had also suffered the same fate on her 21st birthday. Kristen\u2019s father apologizes to her youngest sibling, Anne, as they pick her up in shock.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
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  {
    "id": "836ed1ca86dd4918a13cd363751e1932",
    "story": "It started right on Kristen\u2019s birthday. Instead of the usual festivities and cake, Kristen\u2019s birthday seemed more like a funeral. Kristen\u2019s Dad and her little brother Christian sat quietly in black suits barely able to look at Kristen as they ate dinner. Kristen remembered when her older sister Amber got the same treatment 2 years prior.\n\u201cThank you for a wonderful dinner Dad!\u201d Kristen said as she hugged her father.\n\u201cOf course dear\u201d her Dad muttered, barely holding back grief. \u201cAnything for my little girl\u2019s 21st\u201d.\n\u201cDad what is going to happen to Kristen?\u201d Christian asked.\nHer Dad did not respond, and continued to slowly eat.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back,\u201d Kristen said awkwardly as she got up.\nAs she walked away, she could hear the sounds of her father crying in the dining room, and the pleas of her little brother for any semblance of an understanding to the situation.\nAs Kristen went into her room, she looked at the mirror on her closet door and screamed.\n\u201cMy tooth is missing\u201d Kristen cried,\nAs she continued to stare into the mirror, she watched as each of her teeth slowly began to fade away. Kristen tried to call out to her father, but as she did her tongue begun to disappear as well. In a state of pure shock, Kristen\u2019s legs buckled and fell to the floor. As she tried to get up, Kristen looked on in horror as her feet began to retract into her calves.\n\u201cDad what\u2019s happening to her!\u201d Christian screamed.\n\u201cYour damn mother happened Christian\u201d The Dad exclaimed between panicked breaths \u201cthat witch sold us out for her own damn benefit!\u201d\nWhile Kristen\u2019s family was very well off now, for the first 12 years of her life they lived in extreme poverty. She remembered that almost overnight their luck began to turn around, and that shortly after her mother vanished without a trace. Kristen then recalled how her sister Kali disappeared from her dorm on her 21st birthday.\nAs Kristen pondered these things, she could feel her arms and legs going deeper into her torso as if her whole body was closing in on itself. She turned her head to look at the mirror, and to her horror saw that her whole body had begun to evaporate, leaving her with just her organs, spine, and head.\nPiece by piece, each of her remaining internal organs shrunk to the size of a pea before disappearing from sight. She could no longer hear the cries of her brother and father, but she could still feel her eyes closing in on themselves similar to how a hand closes into a fist. Finally after an excruciating 21 minutes, Kristen Santos had been reduced to a vile final memory. As her father and little brother got up, they turned around to see the youngest sibling Anne standing in the doorway.\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry Pumpkin\u201d the Dad muttered shakily as he picked her up. \u201cI\u2019m so fucking sorry\u201d.",
    "summary": "Kristen's 21st birthday turns out to be a horrific one as she begins to disappear and her family is powerless to save her. Her father and younger brother know what's happening, but they are unable to stop it as they watch Kristen slowly evaporate into nothingness. It is revealed that Kristen's mother had made a deal with some unknown entity to bring her family wealth, but at a terrible cost. The story ends with Kristen's father carrying her younger sister away and apologizing for what has happened.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
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  {
    "id": "d36fc509876d488497ed6c535e004961",
    "story": "It started right on Kristen\u2019s birthday. Instead of the usual festivities and cake, Kristen\u2019s birthday seemed more like a funeral. Kristen\u2019s Dad and her little brother Christian sat quietly in black suits barely able to look at Kristen as they ate dinner. Kristen remembered when her older sister Amber got the same treatment 2 years prior.\n\u201cThank you for a wonderful dinner Dad!\u201d Kristen said as she hugged her father.\n\u201cOf course dear\u201d her Dad muttered, barely holding back grief. \u201cAnything for my little girl\u2019s 21st\u201d.\n\u201cDad what is going to happen to Kristen?\u201d Christian asked.\nHer Dad did not respond, and continued to slowly eat.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back,\u201d Kristen said awkwardly as she got up.\nAs she walked away, she could hear the sounds of her father crying in the dining room, and the pleas of her little brother for any semblance of an understanding to the situation.\nAs Kristen went into her room, she looked at the mirror on her closet door and screamed.\n\u201cMy tooth is missing\u201d Kristen cried,\nAs she continued to stare into the mirror, she watched as each of her teeth slowly began to fade away. Kristen tried to call out to her father, but as she did her tongue begun to disappear as well. In a state of pure shock, Kristen\u2019s legs buckled and fell to the floor. As she tried to get up, Kristen looked on in horror as her feet began to retract into her calves.\n\u201cDad what\u2019s happening to her!\u201d Christian screamed.\n\u201cYour damn mother happened Christian\u201d The Dad exclaimed between panicked breaths \u201cthat witch sold us out for her own damn benefit!\u201d\nWhile Kristen\u2019s family was very well off now, for the first 12 years of her life they lived in extreme poverty. She remembered that almost overnight their luck began to turn around, and that shortly after her mother vanished without a trace. Kristen then recalled how her sister Kali disappeared from her dorm on her 21st birthday.\nAs Kristen pondered these things, she could feel her arms and legs going deeper into her torso as if her whole body was closing in on itself. She turned her head to look at the mirror, and to her horror saw that her whole body had begun to evaporate, leaving her with just her organs, spine, and head.\nPiece by piece, each of her remaining internal organs shrunk to the size of a pea before disappearing from sight. She could no longer hear the cries of her brother and father, but she could still feel her eyes closing in on themselves similar to how a hand closes into a fist. Finally after an excruciating 21 minutes, Kristen Santos had been reduced to a vile final memory. As her father and little brother got up, they turned around to see the youngest sibling Anne standing in the doorway.\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry Pumpkin\u201d the Dad muttered shakily as he picked her up. \u201cI\u2019m so fucking sorry\u201d.",
    "summary": "On Kristen's 21st birthday, she begins to physically disappear and evaporate into nothing. As this is happening, she recalls that two years prior her older sister Amber went through the same horrifying experience on her 21st birthday. Kristen realizes that her family's improved fortune over the last 12 years likely came as the result of a sinister deal made by her mother, who vanished around that time. By the end of the story, Kristen is reduced to nothing but a memory as her internal organs and body shrink and disappear. Her father is left with immense regret over the loss of his two eldest daughters. The story suggests the family's fortune came at the cost of the lives of the mother's first two children.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
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  },
  {
    "id": "c54782a400054013b982a02f77e95e39",
    "story": "\"Don't worry.\" said Spiegel jovially \"I can do this without killing more than, say, twenty to thirty million people.\"\nThe official swallowed dryly. \"Twenty to thirty million...you are talking about mass murder, Mr. Spiegel. My government has agreed to work with you only under the condition that there is as little bloodshed as possible.\"\nSpiegel grinned. \"And just so it will be, Sir. But you have to remember that we are talking about bringing an empire to its knees. I will have to give my special treatment to at least a few cities and army bases. Imagine all the bloodshed there would be, if you had to work with atomic bombs, gas and conventional troops instead.\" He giggled childishly. \"No, Sir, my ways may not be pretty, but they are still more humane than starting a world war.\"\nThe officials turned white. \"So, what you are saying is...these abilities that you have demonstrated...you can do that to entire cities.\"\nSpiegel beamed proudly. \"Of course. Cities, continents, planets. Eventually I will put entire entire star systems through the wringer. But that is still quite a while in the future.\"\n\"...star systems...\" mouthed the official silently.\n\"Sure.\" Spiegel said casually \"What, did you not think that I could see the future? I am able to mangle the space-time-continuum, Sir. I know exactly what the future holds.\"\n\"And what does the future hold?\" asked the official breathlessly.\n\"For your kind? Death, destruction and madness. A lot of that inflicted by my hands. But that really does not matter in the grand scheme of things.\"\nThe official opened a drawer of his desk and retrieved a revolver. \"And what\" he said with a voice that barely rose above a whisper \"What if I shoot you here and now, like a rabid dog?\"\n\"Then I would die here\" said Spiegel \"But at the same time I would walk into an office on the other side of the planet and offer someone to conquer your country for them. You see, I do not care which country will eventually unite the planet and build a space-faring civilization. Only that it is done.\"\nAnd with that he turned around and walked out of the door. The official could hear him whistle why he walked down the corridor.",
    "summary": "Mr. Spiegel is a powerful individual who has demonstrated the ability to manipulate the space-time continuum. He has been hired by an official's government to bring an empire to its knees without killing more than twenty to thirty million people. The official is shocked to learn that Spiegel can do this to entire cities, continents and even planets, and is even more horrified when Spiegel reveals that he can also see the future and knows that death and destruction will be inflicted by his hands. When the official threatens to shoot Spiegel like a rabid dog, Spiegel calmly reveals that it wouldn't matter, as he would still find someone else to conquer the official's country. He then leaves, whistling as he goes.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
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  {
    "id": "6b01d59b368d4b3a8d898b216a894f4d",
    "story": "\"Don't worry.\" said Spiegel jovially \"I can do this without killing more than, say, twenty to thirty million people.\"\nThe official swallowed dryly. \"Twenty to thirty million...you are talking about mass murder, Mr. Spiegel. My government has agreed to work with you only under the condition that there is as little bloodshed as possible.\"\nSpiegel grinned. \"And just so it will be, Sir. But you have to remember that we are talking about bringing an empire to its knees. I will have to give my special treatment to at least a few cities and army bases. Imagine all the bloodshed there would be, if you had to work with atomic bombs, gas and conventional troops instead.\" He giggled childishly. \"No, Sir, my ways may not be pretty, but they are still more humane than starting a world war.\"\nThe officials turned white. \"So, what you are saying is...these abilities that you have demonstrated...you can do that to entire cities.\"\nSpiegel beamed proudly. \"Of course. Cities, continents, planets. Eventually I will put entire entire star systems through the wringer. But that is still quite a while in the future.\"\n\"...star systems...\" mouthed the official silently.\n\"Sure.\" Spiegel said casually \"What, did you not think that I could see the future? I am able to mangle the space-time-continuum, Sir. I know exactly what the future holds.\"\n\"And what does the future hold?\" asked the official breathlessly.\n\"For your kind? Death, destruction and madness. A lot of that inflicted by my hands. But that really does not matter in the grand scheme of things.\"\nThe official opened a drawer of his desk and retrieved a revolver. \"And what\" he said with a voice that barely rose above a whisper \"What if I shoot you here and now, like a rabid dog?\"\n\"Then I would die here\" said Spiegel \"But at the same time I would walk into an office on the other side of the planet and offer someone to conquer your country for them. You see, I do not care which country will eventually unite the planet and build a space-faring civilization. Only that it is done.\"\nAnd with that he turned around and walked out of the door. The official could hear him whistle why he walked down the corridor.",
    "summary": "Spiegel is a man with the ability to cause destruction on a massive scale. He has been hired by a government to bring down an empire, but he warns that his methods will result in the deaths of millions. Spiegel claims to be able to see the future and reveals that he plans to continue causing destruction on an even greater scale. When the official he is speaking with threatens to shoot him, Spiegel reveals that he is not loyal to any one country and will simply offer his services to someone else. He leaves, whistling happily, while the official is left contemplating the destructive power of Spiegel's abilities.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
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  {
    "id": "672780c97df6459e8f1956d30d90284b",
    "story": "\"Don't worry.\" said Spiegel jovially \"I can do this without killing more than, say, twenty to thirty million people.\"\nThe official swallowed dryly. \"Twenty to thirty million...you are talking about mass murder, Mr. Spiegel. My government has agreed to work with you only under the condition that there is as little bloodshed as possible.\"\nSpiegel grinned. \"And just so it will be, Sir. But you have to remember that we are talking about bringing an empire to its knees. I will have to give my special treatment to at least a few cities and army bases. Imagine all the bloodshed there would be, if you had to work with atomic bombs, gas and conventional troops instead.\" He giggled childishly. \"No, Sir, my ways may not be pretty, but they are still more humane than starting a world war.\"\nThe officials turned white. \"So, what you are saying is...these abilities that you have demonstrated...you can do that to entire cities.\"\nSpiegel beamed proudly. \"Of course. Cities, continents, planets. Eventually I will put entire entire star systems through the wringer. But that is still quite a while in the future.\"\n\"...star systems...\" mouthed the official silently.\n\"Sure.\" Spiegel said casually \"What, did you not think that I could see the future? I am able to mangle the space-time-continuum, Sir. I know exactly what the future holds.\"\n\"And what does the future hold?\" asked the official breathlessly.\n\"For your kind? Death, destruction and madness. A lot of that inflicted by my hands. But that really does not matter in the grand scheme of things.\"\nThe official opened a drawer of his desk and retrieved a revolver. \"And what\" he said with a voice that barely rose above a whisper \"What if I shoot you here and now, like a rabid dog?\"\n\"Then I would die here\" said Spiegel \"But at the same time I would walk into an office on the other side of the planet and offer someone to conquer your country for them. You see, I do not care which country will eventually unite the planet and build a space-faring civilization. Only that it is done.\"\nAnd with that he turned around and walked out of the door. The official could hear him whistle why he walked down the corridor.",
    "summary": "The story is about a man named Spiegel who has powerful abilities, including the ability to manipulate space, time, and the future. He meets with an official from a government, claiming that he can help the government conquer an empire and bring it to its knees, with a limited amount of bloodshed, around 20-30 million deaths. Spiegel boasts about his powerful abilities, saying he can inflict destruction on entire cities, continents, planets, and eventually even star systems. He claims to know the future, in which he foresees death and destruction brought about in part by his own hands. When the official threatens to shoot Spiegel, Spiegel claims that this would not stop him, as he would simply appear elsewhere and make a deal with another country. The story depicts Spiegel as a menacing, power-hungry figure who cares little for human life. His extreme powers and disregard for morality pose a grave threat to humanity.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "11b76f7ce5184477a4cda3e0e408ef09",
    "story": "The rescue team entered the cave and was led to a vertical shaft that was extremely narrow. The cave guide said that one of his participants had left of the group and had fallen down this blocked off section of cave.\nThey called down the shaft but they could only faintly hear him so they knew he had to be pretty far down. They shouted that they were going to drop a radio down to him and after a few minutes, sent it down. The rescue took multiple days and over the course of the operation the team took turns speaking with the man who was surprisingly calm.\nHe told them he had very little room to move and that he was hungry. He talked about getting out and how much he wanted to see the sun and the team gave him updates on how they had to request especially equipment be flown in for the rescue.\nWhen they finally extracted him, he was ecstatic, and he went around to each member of the team hugging them and introducing himself. The team was perplexed because each of them had spoken to him at great length over the prior few days.\nBefore they could say anything, however, he profusely apologized for losing their radio. He said when they had dropped it down, it hit his hand quite hard and it fell, clattering down the hole underneath him. He said he never got the opportunity to use it, and apologized again.\nThe rescue team looked at each other, just as the radio flared to life and and a voice identical to the man standing in front of them asked \"when are you guys coming to get me\"?",
    "summary": "The rescue team went into a cave to rescue a man who had fallen down a vertical shaft. The team took turns talking to him over a radio, providing him with updates and encouragement. When they finally extracted him, he thanked them for rescuing him and apologized for losing their radio. When the team was about to leave, the radio came to life again and the same voice asked when they were coming to get him.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "3440f56c79224d59baab98041514a6f3",
    "story": "The rescue team entered the cave and was led to a vertical shaft that was extremely narrow. The cave guide said that one of his participants had left of the group and had fallen down this blocked off section of cave.\nThey called down the shaft but they could only faintly hear him so they knew he had to be pretty far down. They shouted that they were going to drop a radio down to him and after a few minutes, sent it down. The rescue took multiple days and over the course of the operation the team took turns speaking with the man who was surprisingly calm.\nHe told them he had very little room to move and that he was hungry. He talked about getting out and how much he wanted to see the sun and the team gave him updates on how they had to request especially equipment be flown in for the rescue.\nWhen they finally extracted him, he was ecstatic, and he went around to each member of the team hugging them and introducing himself. The team was perplexed because each of them had spoken to him at great length over the prior few days.\nBefore they could say anything, however, he profusely apologized for losing their radio. He said when they had dropped it down, it hit his hand quite hard and it fell, clattering down the hole underneath him. He said he never got the opportunity to use it, and apologized again.\nThe rescue team looked at each other, just as the radio flared to life and and a voice identical to the man standing in front of them asked \"when are you guys coming to get me\"?",
    "summary": "A rescue team goes into a narrow cave to find a participant who had fallen down a blocked-off section. They drop a radio down to him and start a multiple day rescue operation, during which they take turns speaking with the man who remains surprisingly calm. When they finally extract him, he apologizes for losing their radio, but before they can say anything, the radio flares to life with the same voice asking when they will come to get him. The team realizes that the man they rescued was not the one who had fallen down the shaft, and they wonder who they had actually been talking to.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "54d7054c6c2a434cb1a02da48e505e47",
    "story": "The rescue team entered the cave and was led to a vertical shaft that was extremely narrow. The cave guide said that one of his participants had left of the group and had fallen down this blocked off section of cave.\nThey called down the shaft but they could only faintly hear him so they knew he had to be pretty far down. They shouted that they were going to drop a radio down to him and after a few minutes, sent it down. The rescue took multiple days and over the course of the operation the team took turns speaking with the man who was surprisingly calm.\nHe told them he had very little room to move and that he was hungry. He talked about getting out and how much he wanted to see the sun and the team gave him updates on how they had to request especially equipment be flown in for the rescue.\nWhen they finally extracted him, he was ecstatic, and he went around to each member of the team hugging them and introducing himself. The team was perplexed because each of them had spoken to him at great length over the prior few days.\nBefore they could say anything, however, he profusely apologized for losing their radio. He said when they had dropped it down, it hit his hand quite hard and it fell, clattering down the hole underneath him. He said he never got the opportunity to use it, and apologized again.\nThe rescue team looked at each other, just as the radio flared to life and and a voice identical to the man standing in front of them asked \"when are you guys coming to get me\"?",
    "summary": "A rescue team enters a cave in order to save a man who has fallen down a narrow vertical shaft. After days of work, they are able to extract him from the shaft. However, once he is out, he proceeds to hug and introduce himself to each member of the team, even though they had spoken extensively with him over the radio during the multi-day rescue operation. Perplexed, the team then realizes that the man never actually had the radio, and that the voice they heard was someone else trapped further down the shaft. The man they rescued had merely apologized for losing the radio when they first dropped it down, but in fact it had fallen past him to someone trapped below. The story ends with the radio flaring to life again and the voice of the other trapped person asking when the rescue team will come for him.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "a200ddea173241fc91ccb2c5d5a7edc0",
    "story": "Destiny couldn\u2019t wait to see Heaven.\nThey had been best friends for years- since second grade. They came to the playground nearly every afternoon that summer for a game of tag, to draw with chalk, or to just laugh together.\nBut lately she\u2019d been noticing some strange things about Heaven. For one, she\u2019d been wearing the same dirty clothes for a week. She also noticed the other kids weren\u2019t talking to Heaven or playing with her anymore. That didn\u2019t matter to Destiny. Heaven would always be her friend.\nThat afternoon Destiny stopped by her friend\u2019s house on the way to the park. She didn\u2019t know much about Heaven\u2019s family, just that Heaven spent most of her days outside. She didn\u2019t like spending time at home.\nA man in a dirty shirt answered the door. She wasn\u2019t sure if this was Heaven\u2019s dad or not.\n\"Hey, is Heaven coming to the playground today?\"\nHe stared at her for a long time.\n\"Come on in. You can ask her.\u201d\nHe led her into the kitchen. They turned the corner and he opened another door, revealing a basement staircase.\n\"She's down there.\"\nDestiny was unsure- but she trusted parents.\n\"She is?\" She took a tentative step.\n\"Yep. She\u2019s been playing down there all week.\"\nHe gave her a shove, and she tumbled down the stairs. Shocked, she looked back up at the man in the doorframe.\n\"Say hello to Heaven for me, won't you?\" He said, slamming the door.\nDestiny screamed as she was plunged into darkness. In her confusion she stumbled to the cellar floor. But instead of landing on soft dirt, her hands felt cold flesh, and her fingers caught in a tangle of hair.\nShe tried to get up quickly, but froze when she heard a voice- Heaven's voice- whisper in her ear:\n\"It's OK. Now we can play down here together.\"",
    "summary": "Destiny visits her best friend Heaven's house on her way to the playground and is shocked when Heaven's father leads her to the basement. When the door slams shut, Destiny is plunged into darkness and finds Heaven on the floor. Heaven reassures her that they can now play in the basement together.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      1,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "1c19e25cbfe64b269042b3bdbf916aca",
    "story": "Destiny couldn\u2019t wait to see Heaven.\nThey had been best friends for years- since second grade. They came to the playground nearly every afternoon that summer for a game of tag, to draw with chalk, or to just laugh together.\nBut lately she\u2019d been noticing some strange things about Heaven. For one, she\u2019d been wearing the same dirty clothes for a week. She also noticed the other kids weren\u2019t talking to Heaven or playing with her anymore. That didn\u2019t matter to Destiny. Heaven would always be her friend.\nThat afternoon Destiny stopped by her friend\u2019s house on the way to the park. She didn\u2019t know much about Heaven\u2019s family, just that Heaven spent most of her days outside. She didn\u2019t like spending time at home.\nA man in a dirty shirt answered the door. She wasn\u2019t sure if this was Heaven\u2019s dad or not.\n\"Hey, is Heaven coming to the playground today?\"\nHe stared at her for a long time.\n\"Come on in. You can ask her.\u201d\nHe led her into the kitchen. They turned the corner and he opened another door, revealing a basement staircase.\n\"She's down there.\"\nDestiny was unsure- but she trusted parents.\n\"She is?\" She took a tentative step.\n\"Yep. She\u2019s been playing down there all week.\"\nHe gave her a shove, and she tumbled down the stairs. Shocked, she looked back up at the man in the doorframe.\n\"Say hello to Heaven for me, won't you?\" He said, slamming the door.\nDestiny screamed as she was plunged into darkness. In her confusion she stumbled to the cellar floor. But instead of landing on soft dirt, her hands felt cold flesh, and her fingers caught in a tangle of hair.\nShe tried to get up quickly, but froze when she heard a voice- Heaven's voice- whisper in her ear:\n\"It's OK. Now we can play down here together.\"",
    "summary": "Destiny and Heaven are best friends who often play together at the park. Destiny notices some strange changes in Heaven's behavior, such as wearing the same clothes for a week and no longer being friends with other kids. When Destiny goes to Heaven's house to ask her to play, a man answers the door and leads her to the basement where Heaven has been playing for a week. The man shoves Destiny down the stairs, leaving her trapped in the basement with Heaven, who says they can now play together.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      1,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "179476e1dcda44e69700959efe0e3aa7",
    "story": "Destiny couldn\u2019t wait to see Heaven.\nThey had been best friends for years- since second grade. They came to the playground nearly every afternoon that summer for a game of tag, to draw with chalk, or to just laugh together.\nBut lately she\u2019d been noticing some strange things about Heaven. For one, she\u2019d been wearing the same dirty clothes for a week. She also noticed the other kids weren\u2019t talking to Heaven or playing with her anymore. That didn\u2019t matter to Destiny. Heaven would always be her friend.\nThat afternoon Destiny stopped by her friend\u2019s house on the way to the park. She didn\u2019t know much about Heaven\u2019s family, just that Heaven spent most of her days outside. She didn\u2019t like spending time at home.\nA man in a dirty shirt answered the door. She wasn\u2019t sure if this was Heaven\u2019s dad or not.\n\"Hey, is Heaven coming to the playground today?\"\nHe stared at her for a long time.\n\"Come on in. You can ask her.\u201d\nHe led her into the kitchen. They turned the corner and he opened another door, revealing a basement staircase.\n\"She's down there.\"\nDestiny was unsure- but she trusted parents.\n\"She is?\" She took a tentative step.\n\"Yep. She\u2019s been playing down there all week.\"\nHe gave her a shove, and she tumbled down the stairs. Shocked, she looked back up at the man in the doorframe.\n\"Say hello to Heaven for me, won't you?\" He said, slamming the door.\nDestiny screamed as she was plunged into darkness. In her confusion she stumbled to the cellar floor. But instead of landing on soft dirt, her hands felt cold flesh, and her fingers caught in a tangle of hair.\nShe tried to get up quickly, but froze when she heard a voice- Heaven's voice- whisper in her ear:\n\"It's OK. Now we can play down here together.\"",
    "summary": "Destiny goes to visit her best friend Heaven at her house. Heaven's father lets Destiny into the house and leads her down to the basement, claiming Heaven has been playing down there all week. Once Destiny reaches the bottom of the stairs, she discovers Heaven's dead body in the dark basement. Heaven's ghost then whispers to Destiny that now they can play together in the basement. The story suggests that Heaven's father was responsible for her death and lured Destiny into the basement to harm or kill her as well.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "991c2594c74d4fc48f9a1670de5b3ef9",
    "story": "\u201cWill you be my valentine?\u201d I prayed to hear those three magical letters, and my prayer was heard.\n\u201cYes, of course!\u201d Her heart was mine. The next day, February 14th, I spent all day dreaming of her. Her deep blue eyes, her long, black hair, but most importantly, her heart. Her heart was mine. And then I noticed the time. She would be here in half an hour, and I hadn\u2019t even begun to prepare a meal! The pantry door flew open for me to search for something suitable for the occasion. Cauliflower? Mashed potatoes? Pasta with white sauce? That was my best bet. As I finished plating the meal, the daydreams returned. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. And she was mine. Her heart was mine. I placed a white rose against the end of the plate. Just as I had done this, there was a knock at the door.\nMy hand rested against the knob, ready to open the door, before feeling a moment of sorrow. Once the moment passed, I turned the knob and welcomed her inside. She wore a beautiful white dress. It was perfect. I guided her to the dining room, and she reacted just as every valentine in the past. Her face was one of confusion.\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one plate,\u201d she said, puzzled. Just like every valentine in the past. I shushed her. Quietly, I pulled out the knife that had been hidden. I turned to face her and thrust the knife into her chest, careful not to penetrate her heart. She was dead before she could react. Her heart was then carved out. Her blood stained her dress red. Red, the color of love. Her heart was carefully set on the plate. It colored the sauce red. Red, the color of love. And finally, it stained the rose red. Red, the color of love. I feasted the same as I had every year prior, savoring every bite. Her heart was mine, after all.\nThen, it was time to rest again, and in 11 months, I would find a new love. A new heart to call mine.",
    "summary": "A man spends his day dreaming of the beautiful woman he will be seeing later that night. When she arrives, he guides her to the dining room, where he has prepared a meal with a single plate. He then pulls out a knife and stabs her in the chest, taking her heart out and placing it on the plate. He feasts on it, savoring every bite, and then rests until he can find a new heart to call his own.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "405e738d32d143438cfee5a6f503fd2d",
    "story": "\u201cWill you be my valentine?\u201d I prayed to hear those three magical letters, and my prayer was heard.\n\u201cYes, of course!\u201d Her heart was mine. The next day, February 14th, I spent all day dreaming of her. Her deep blue eyes, her long, black hair, but most importantly, her heart. Her heart was mine. And then I noticed the time. She would be here in half an hour, and I hadn\u2019t even begun to prepare a meal! The pantry door flew open for me to search for something suitable for the occasion. Cauliflower? Mashed potatoes? Pasta with white sauce? That was my best bet. As I finished plating the meal, the daydreams returned. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. And she was mine. Her heart was mine. I placed a white rose against the end of the plate. Just as I had done this, there was a knock at the door.\nMy hand rested against the knob, ready to open the door, before feeling a moment of sorrow. Once the moment passed, I turned the knob and welcomed her inside. She wore a beautiful white dress. It was perfect. I guided her to the dining room, and she reacted just as every valentine in the past. Her face was one of confusion.\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one plate,\u201d she said, puzzled. Just like every valentine in the past. I shushed her. Quietly, I pulled out the knife that had been hidden. I turned to face her and thrust the knife into her chest, careful not to penetrate her heart. She was dead before she could react. Her heart was then carved out. Her blood stained her dress red. Red, the color of love. Her heart was carefully set on the plate. It colored the sauce red. Red, the color of love. And finally, it stained the rose red. Red, the color of love. I feasted the same as I had every year prior, savoring every bite. Her heart was mine, after all.\nThen, it was time to rest again, and in 11 months, I would find a new love. A new heart to call mine.",
    "summary": "The narrator is excited to have found a Valentine, and spends the day dreaming about her. He prepares a meal for her, but when she arrives, he stabs her and carves out her heart to eat. He reflects that he will find a new love and heart to call his own in the future.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      1,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "6c082affa2fc461c91863c4f79e7221e",
    "story": "\u201cWill you be my valentine?\u201d I prayed to hear those three magical letters, and my prayer was heard.\n\u201cYes, of course!\u201d Her heart was mine. The next day, February 14th, I spent all day dreaming of her. Her deep blue eyes, her long, black hair, but most importantly, her heart. Her heart was mine. And then I noticed the time. She would be here in half an hour, and I hadn\u2019t even begun to prepare a meal! The pantry door flew open for me to search for something suitable for the occasion. Cauliflower? Mashed potatoes? Pasta with white sauce? That was my best bet. As I finished plating the meal, the daydreams returned. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. And she was mine. Her heart was mine. I placed a white rose against the end of the plate. Just as I had done this, there was a knock at the door.\nMy hand rested against the knob, ready to open the door, before feeling a moment of sorrow. Once the moment passed, I turned the knob and welcomed her inside. She wore a beautiful white dress. It was perfect. I guided her to the dining room, and she reacted just as every valentine in the past. Her face was one of confusion.\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one plate,\u201d she said, puzzled. Just like every valentine in the past. I shushed her. Quietly, I pulled out the knife that had been hidden. I turned to face her and thrust the knife into her chest, careful not to penetrate her heart. She was dead before she could react. Her heart was then carved out. Her blood stained her dress red. Red, the color of love. Her heart was carefully set on the plate. It colored the sauce red. Red, the color of love. And finally, it stained the rose red. Red, the color of love. I feasted the same as I had every year prior, savoring every bite. Her heart was mine, after all.\nThen, it was time to rest again, and in 11 months, I would find a new love. A new heart to call mine.",
    "summary": "The story follows an unnamed protagonist who dreams of finding love on Valentine\u2019s Day. He finds a woman who says \u201cyes\u201d when he asks her to be his valentine. He spends the day dreaming about her and preparing a romantic dinner for her. When she arrives, he stabs her to death and carves out her heart. He places her heart on his plate of pasta and eats it, staining everything red with her blood. The protagonist views this murder and cannibalism as an expression of love, and the story ends by saying he will find a new love and repeat the process again next year. The story depicts a disturbing and sinister take on the themes of romance and love.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "1472f500f5d94abbb2b94848e229bc8b",
    "story": "I hate going to cemeteries.\nIt\u2019s not that it\u2019s the atmosphere, the strange peacefulness washing over countless graves. The neglected tombs, or the newly buried. No, it\u2019s not even zombies, if they exist. Or even the distant ringing of the church bell.\nIt\u2019s just that I happen to have a strange gift.\nI can hear the dead.\nAnd it\u2019s not only that. They can hear me too.\nI sigh as I get out of the car, grab the flowers. The sun\u2019s bright as ever. I lock the car and I begin my walk to my destination.\nThe graves lined row by row. Some old, dating back centuries, others modern. Most are stones and crosses. A few are newly made.\nThen I hear them.\nThe grave on my right, Meta Anna Hobbes 1900 - 1918:\nI\u2019m sorry, mama, papa. I should\u2019ve listened . . .\nThe grave on my left, M. P. Jackson 1890 -1951:\nI killed myself after what I did to Little Charlie . . .\nMore voices come. It got annoying. Like what happens when a lot of radio frequencies merged into one.\nI pause at one grave. It read:\nBABY ELLIE 2004\nOUR LITTLE ANGEL\nA baby's wail. A teddy bear and a small bouquet. I then look at the other:\nWren Wrightwell 1990 -2017. I can hear Wren\u2019s whisper:\nI know who killed me . . .  He\u2019s there . . .\nI rub my temple and move on. As I do, I see the more interesting graves. I have at least two favorites:\nOne grave has a mortsafe over it. Probably to keep off vampires or something. I read the old, eroded stone marker as best I can:\nArthur Patton Smith? 18?? - 1889?\nHERE LIES THE MAN . . .\nHE WHO CARES . . .\nMAY HE REST (?)\nReading, I can hear his voice:\nGod loves us all except the colored folk . . .\nI quickly back away, then I finally spot it. The flying angel grave by the pine tree. Mom. Fifty-nine steps later, I get there. I face the angel. I give a moment of silence and read Mom\u2019s tomb, the words etched below the angel:\nMaryann Kanell 1956 - 2020\nBELOVED WIFE MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER\nHER MEMORY IS ENSHRINED IN OUR HEARTS\nWhile standing there, I feel numb. My fingers grip the bouquet tight.\nI remember Mom, a sweet woman. Her smile, her strong hands, and witty humor . . .\nAfter several minutes, I gather the courage to speak to her.\n\u201cHow\u2019s it going, mom?\u201d I feel strong emotions coming.\nMom\u2019s voice answers me in return:\nYou brat! I took care of you and your brother! I gave you your own closet. But you scratched it like a cat! You! You didn\u2019t know how to wash in the tub, so I showed you how!\nI laugh at the whisper. \u201cYou\u2019re telling a different story, mom.\u201d I smile. \u201cAt least you won\u2019t hurt me or Hector anymore.\u201d",
    "summary": "The narrator is visiting a cemetery, and has a strange gift where they can hear the voices of the dead. As they explore, they come across several graves that are speaking to them, including one belonging to a baby, a man who was prejudiced against people of color, and a beloved mother. The narrator talks to their mother's grave and reminisces, and finds that even in death, their mother still has plenty of wit and humor.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
      0,
      0
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "e37c62ee9b62445287a21b99c8b62b1f",
    "story": "I hate going to cemeteries.\nIt\u2019s not that it\u2019s the atmosphere, the strange peacefulness washing over countless graves. The neglected tombs, or the newly buried. No, it\u2019s not even zombies, if they exist. Or even the distant ringing of the church bell.\nIt\u2019s just that I happen to have a strange gift.\nI can hear the dead.\nAnd it\u2019s not only that. They can hear me too.\nI sigh as I get out of the car, grab the flowers. The sun\u2019s bright as ever. I lock the car and I begin my walk to my destination.\nThe graves lined row by row. Some old, dating back centuries, others modern. Most are stones and crosses. A few are newly made.\nThen I hear them.\nThe grave on my right, Meta Anna Hobbes 1900 - 1918:\nI\u2019m sorry, mama, papa. I should\u2019ve listened . . .\nThe grave on my left, M. P. Jackson 1890 -1951:\nI killed myself after what I did to Little Charlie . . .\nMore voices come. It got annoying. Like what happens when a lot of radio frequencies merged into one.\nI pause at one grave. It read:\nBABY ELLIE 2004\nOUR LITTLE ANGEL\nA baby's wail. A teddy bear and a small bouquet. I then look at the other:\nWren Wrightwell 1990 -2017. I can hear Wren\u2019s whisper:\nI know who killed me . . .  He\u2019s there . . .\nI rub my temple and move on. As I do, I see the more interesting graves. I have at least two favorites:\nOne grave has a mortsafe over it. Probably to keep off vampires or something. I read the old, eroded stone marker as best I can:\nArthur Patton Smith? 18?? - 1889?\nHERE LIES THE MAN . . .\nHE WHO CARES . . .\nMAY HE REST (?)\nReading, I can hear his voice:\nGod loves us all except the colored folk . . .\nI quickly back away, then I finally spot it. The flying angel grave by the pine tree. Mom. Fifty-nine steps later, I get there. I face the angel. I give a moment of silence and read Mom\u2019s tomb, the words etched below the angel:\nMaryann Kanell 1956 - 2020\nBELOVED WIFE MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER\nHER MEMORY IS ENSHRINED IN OUR HEARTS\nWhile standing there, I feel numb. My fingers grip the bouquet tight.\nI remember Mom, a sweet woman. Her smile, her strong hands, and witty humor . . .\nAfter several minutes, I gather the courage to speak to her.\n\u201cHow\u2019s it going, mom?\u201d I feel strong emotions coming.\nMom\u2019s voice answers me in return:\nYou brat! I took care of you and your brother! I gave you your own closet. But you scratched it like a cat! You! You didn\u2019t know how to wash in the tub, so I showed you how!\nI laugh at the whisper. \u201cYou\u2019re telling a different story, mom.\u201d I smile. \u201cAt least you won\u2019t hurt me or Hector anymore.\u201d",
    "summary": "The protagonist hates going to cemeteries because they have the ability to hear the dead and the dead can hear them too. They walk through the cemetery and hear various voices and stories from the graves. They eventually make it to their mother's grave and have a conversation with her, reminiscing about their past. The story ends with the protagonist feeling comforted by their mother's voice.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "31dc61cff09942a9896d116dc131066e",
    "story": "I hate going to cemeteries.\nIt\u2019s not that it\u2019s the atmosphere, the strange peacefulness washing over countless graves. The neglected tombs, or the newly buried. No, it\u2019s not even zombies, if they exist. Or even the distant ringing of the church bell.\nIt\u2019s just that I happen to have a strange gift.\nI can hear the dead.\nAnd it\u2019s not only that. They can hear me too.\nI sigh as I get out of the car, grab the flowers. The sun\u2019s bright as ever. I lock the car and I begin my walk to my destination.\nThe graves lined row by row. Some old, dating back centuries, others modern. Most are stones and crosses. A few are newly made.\nThen I hear them.\nThe grave on my right, Meta Anna Hobbes 1900 - 1918:\nI\u2019m sorry, mama, papa. I should\u2019ve listened . . .\nThe grave on my left, M. P. Jackson 1890 -1951:\nI killed myself after what I did to Little Charlie . . .\nMore voices come. It got annoying. Like what happens when a lot of radio frequencies merged into one.\nI pause at one grave. It read:\nBABY ELLIE 2004\nOUR LITTLE ANGEL\nA baby's wail. A teddy bear and a small bouquet. I then look at the other:\nWren Wrightwell 1990 -2017. I can hear Wren\u2019s whisper:\nI know who killed me . . .  He\u2019s there . . .\nI rub my temple and move on. As I do, I see the more interesting graves. I have at least two favorites:\nOne grave has a mortsafe over it. Probably to keep off vampires or something. I read the old, eroded stone marker as best I can:\nArthur Patton Smith? 18?? - 1889?\nHERE LIES THE MAN . . .\nHE WHO CARES . . .\nMAY HE REST (?)\nReading, I can hear his voice:\nGod loves us all except the colored folk . . .\nI quickly back away, then I finally spot it. The flying angel grave by the pine tree. Mom. Fifty-nine steps later, I get there. I face the angel. I give a moment of silence and read Mom\u2019s tomb, the words etched below the angel:\nMaryann Kanell 1956 - 2020\nBELOVED WIFE MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER\nHER MEMORY IS ENSHRINED IN OUR HEARTS\nWhile standing there, I feel numb. My fingers grip the bouquet tight.\nI remember Mom, a sweet woman. Her smile, her strong hands, and witty humor . . .\nAfter several minutes, I gather the courage to speak to her.\n\u201cHow\u2019s it going, mom?\u201d I feel strong emotions coming.\nMom\u2019s voice answers me in return:\nYou brat! I took care of you and your brother! I gave you your own closet. But you scratched it like a cat! You! You didn\u2019t know how to wash in the tub, so I showed you how!\nI laugh at the whisper. \u201cYou\u2019re telling a different story, mom.\u201d I smile. \u201cAt least you won\u2019t hurt me or Hector anymore.\u201d",
    "summary": "The narrator has the unusual ability to hear the voices of the dead when visiting cemeteries. The narrator finds cemeteries unpleasant to visit because of this ability. While walking through a cemetery and hearing various voices from graves, the narrator arrives at the grave of the narrator's mother, marked by an angel statue. The narrator speaks to the mother's spirit and reminisces about memories of her. Despite the strange ability, the narrator finds comfort communicating with the mother's spirit. The story suggests the narrator has a complex relationship with the supernatural ability to hear the dead.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "0fccf6c1d6744b69bc29ef1ec453d7bb",
    "story": "Have you watched that new series? \u201dCoincidences\u201d. What a stupid name.\nIt was no coincidence he resembled Ted Bundy, even if they portrayed it that way. He'd studied Ted Bundy's behaviour for the sole reason of replicating it. He was charmed by the idea of hunting people with pretended harmlessness.\nA coincidence means that two or more things, despite happening independently of each other, add up to something for someone. A coincidence was that all three of us happened to be called Cynthia.\nNobody ever realised this, because it was so exciting. The \"Cynthia Killer\" made such delicious headlines. But in reality, he didn't even know our names before the police came asking questions. The directors of the show made up some sob story about his \u201dchildhood love\u201d called Cynthia, as a weak explanation for why he was so interested in us. But he only chose us because he thought he could get away with killing us.\nAnd he did.\nThe evidence against him was extensive. He was the prime suspect, and later the only one. The police spent years searching and interrogating, and everyone was certain it was him. But he never confessed, and our bodies were never found. Nobody could prove we were dead. So he walked out a free man.\nAnd now people are buying subscriptions to see Coincidences, portraying the tragic story of a hurt little boy who grew up to be accused of a triple murder just because he cOiNciDEnTaLLy resembled a famous psychopath.\nHe's famous, and I'm just \u201dthe second Cynthia\u201d. A plot device for telling his story.\nThe writers of that show made up some shadowy crook, \u201dthe real killer who was never caught\u201d, so they could show artistic interpretations of what really happened to us Cynthias. I got 32 seconds of screen time when my actor was buried in Oakwood Creek (or in reality, somebody's back yard that played the part of Oakwood Creek in the show).\nSince the writers couldn't use any of the places the police had really investigated, they had to choose the most reasonable disposal site out of the ones that hadn't been searched. A place near where we lived, where nobody would find us. They just looked at a map, made some measurements, and pointed to a secluded little corner in Oakwood Creek. \u201dYup, that's where I'd bury three bodies\u201d.\nAnd that happens to be the exact place where he really did bury us. That's coincidence for you.\nBut instead of being awarded for their investigative journalism, the writers are handed Emmys. While I'm here with my bones bare, since everything I had to rot has already rotted away. My skeleton fingers coincidentally intertwined with those of the third Cynthia, who was just... dumped on top of me. We're right here in the ground, where the internet's most popular series showed us to be.\nAnd nobody has still come for us.\nInstead, they're sending love letters to the man who hid us here.",
    "summary": "The protagonist is angry at the popular television series \u201dCoincidences\u201d, which portrays a false story of a man who was accused of killing three women, all coincidentally named Cynthia. In reality, he did kill the three women and disposed of their bodies in Oakwood Creek. The protagonist is angry that the writers of the show receive awards and praise, while the victims are forgotten and their bodies remain undiscovered. The protagonist's bones are still in the ground, her fingers coincidentally intertwined with those of the third Cynthia, while the murderer is showered with love letters.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7140ac1509444571b518ae0378c56152",
    "story": "Have you watched that new series? \u201dCoincidences\u201d. What a stupid name.\nIt was no coincidence he resembled Ted Bundy, even if they portrayed it that way. He'd studied Ted Bundy's behaviour for the sole reason of replicating it. He was charmed by the idea of hunting people with pretended harmlessness.\nA coincidence means that two or more things, despite happening independently of each other, add up to something for someone. A coincidence was that all three of us happened to be called Cynthia.\nNobody ever realised this, because it was so exciting. The \"Cynthia Killer\" made such delicious headlines. But in reality, he didn't even know our names before the police came asking questions. The directors of the show made up some sob story about his \u201dchildhood love\u201d called Cynthia, as a weak explanation for why he was so interested in us. But he only chose us because he thought he could get away with killing us.\nAnd he did.\nThe evidence against him was extensive. He was the prime suspect, and later the only one. The police spent years searching and interrogating, and everyone was certain it was him. But he never confessed, and our bodies were never found. Nobody could prove we were dead. So he walked out a free man.\nAnd now people are buying subscriptions to see Coincidences, portraying the tragic story of a hurt little boy who grew up to be accused of a triple murder just because he cOiNciDEnTaLLy resembled a famous psychopath.\nHe's famous, and I'm just \u201dthe second Cynthia\u201d. A plot device for telling his story.\nThe writers of that show made up some shadowy crook, \u201dthe real killer who was never caught\u201d, so they could show artistic interpretations of what really happened to us Cynthias. I got 32 seconds of screen time when my actor was buried in Oakwood Creek (or in reality, somebody's back yard that played the part of Oakwood Creek in the show).\nSince the writers couldn't use any of the places the police had really investigated, they had to choose the most reasonable disposal site out of the ones that hadn't been searched. A place near where we lived, where nobody would find us. They just looked at a map, made some measurements, and pointed to a secluded little corner in Oakwood Creek. \u201dYup, that's where I'd bury three bodies\u201d.\nAnd that happens to be the exact place where he really did bury us. That's coincidence for you.\nBut instead of being awarded for their investigative journalism, the writers are handed Emmys. While I'm here with my bones bare, since everything I had to rot has already rotted away. My skeleton fingers coincidentally intertwined with those of the third Cynthia, who was just... dumped on top of me. We're right here in the ground, where the internet's most popular series showed us to be.\nAnd nobody has still come for us.\nInstead, they're sending love letters to the man who hid us here.",
    "summary": "The story follows the perspective of one of three women named Cynthia who were killed by a man who resembled Ted Bundy. The man chose them because he believed he could get away with killing them. The police spent years searching for the killer, but he was never caught, and the women's bodies were never found. However, the man became famous due to a TV show called \"Coincidences\" that portrayed him as a hurt little boy accused of a crime he didn't commit. The show also made up a fictional \"real killer\" to tell the story of what happened to the Cynthia's. Meanwhile, the women's bodies remained buried in Oakwood Creek, which was also the location chosen by the writers of the show. The story ends with the narrator's bones intertwined with the third Cynthia's, while the man who killed them is famous and receiving love letters.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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      1,
      0
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  },
  {
    "id": "26ac9c7c262c4be3be8846dd0a2f084c",
    "story": "Have you watched that new series? \u201dCoincidences\u201d. What a stupid name.\nIt was no coincidence he resembled Ted Bundy, even if they portrayed it that way. He'd studied Ted Bundy's behaviour for the sole reason of replicating it. He was charmed by the idea of hunting people with pretended harmlessness.\nA coincidence means that two or more things, despite happening independently of each other, add up to something for someone. A coincidence was that all three of us happened to be called Cynthia.\nNobody ever realised this, because it was so exciting. The \"Cynthia Killer\" made such delicious headlines. But in reality, he didn't even know our names before the police came asking questions. The directors of the show made up some sob story about his \u201dchildhood love\u201d called Cynthia, as a weak explanation for why he was so interested in us. But he only chose us because he thought he could get away with killing us.\nAnd he did.\nThe evidence against him was extensive. He was the prime suspect, and later the only one. The police spent years searching and interrogating, and everyone was certain it was him. But he never confessed, and our bodies were never found. Nobody could prove we were dead. So he walked out a free man.\nAnd now people are buying subscriptions to see Coincidences, portraying the tragic story of a hurt little boy who grew up to be accused of a triple murder just because he cOiNciDEnTaLLy resembled a famous psychopath.\nHe's famous, and I'm just \u201dthe second Cynthia\u201d. A plot device for telling his story.\nThe writers of that show made up some shadowy crook, \u201dthe real killer who was never caught\u201d, so they could show artistic interpretations of what really happened to us Cynthias. I got 32 seconds of screen time when my actor was buried in Oakwood Creek (or in reality, somebody's back yard that played the part of Oakwood Creek in the show).\nSince the writers couldn't use any of the places the police had really investigated, they had to choose the most reasonable disposal site out of the ones that hadn't been searched. A place near where we lived, where nobody would find us. They just looked at a map, made some measurements, and pointed to a secluded little corner in Oakwood Creek. \u201dYup, that's where I'd bury three bodies\u201d.\nAnd that happens to be the exact place where he really did bury us. That's coincidence for you.\nBut instead of being awarded for their investigative journalism, the writers are handed Emmys. While I'm here with my bones bare, since everything I had to rot has already rotted away. My skeleton fingers coincidentally intertwined with those of the third Cynthia, who was just... dumped on top of me. We're right here in the ground, where the internet's most popular series showed us to be.\nAnd nobody has still come for us.\nInstead, they're sending love letters to the man who hid us here.",
    "summary": "The story is narrated from the perspective of one of three women named Cynthia who were murdered by a man who was obsessed with Ted Bundy. The man studied Bundy's behavior in order to replicate his killings. He chose the three Cynthias at random and killed them, burying their bodies in a secluded creek. Years later, a TV show portrayed a fictionalized version of the events, claiming that the killer's resemblence to Bundy and childhood love of a woman named Cynthia were coincidences that led him to target the three victims. In reality, the killer didn't know the women's names and chose them at random. The TV show unknowingly depicted the correct burial site of the three women. The narrator is frustrated that the show's writers are celebrated while her remains lay undiscovered. The story highlights how true crime shows can exploit and misrepresent tragic events.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "89be8ee89b3b4336938289e9c2fe452f",
    "story": "Every girl needs a BFF who can give it to them straight about their life choices.\n\u201cBabe, how long until we get to Santa Barbara?\u201d asks Margot from the passenger seat, reapplying lip gloss. \u201cI want to start our girls\u2019 weekend already!\u201d\n\u201cLike at least another hour\u201d I laugh whilst driving. \u201cRelax, the karaoke bars ain\u2019t going anywhere.\u201d\nMy bestie smiles, staring out the window as our car whizzes past the scenic California orchards.\n\u201cYeah...it\u2019s just that I told Heath I\u2019d let him know when we arrived.\u201d\nI avert my eyes from the road to raise my eyebrows at my friend.\n\u201cOh come on, Jane!\u201d she protests, her tone defensive. \u201cYou know how it is with boyfriends. He\u2019s just protective.\u201d\n\u201cHmmm, no, I don\u2019t recall anything in the dating handbook about guys needing to know their girlfriends\u2019 exact itineraries\u201d I answer judgmentally. \u201cSeriously, next you\u2019ll be telling me this dude\u2019s tracking your location or something...\u201d\nAn awkward silence follows, leaving only the hum of the radio.\n\u201cWhat the fuck, Margot? Heath\u2019s tracking you?!\u201d\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s not like that!\u201d Margot argues. \u201cHeath\u2019s just paranoid about items getting lost, so he bought some Apple AirTags to put on my stuff\u201d.\nI gasp, shaking the steering wheel.\n\u201cMargot! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!\u201d\n\u201cWh-what\u2019s so dangerous about it?\u201d stammers Margot, her assured resolve slipping.\n\u201cAnyone can track your AirTags using an iPhone. It\u2019s creepy! Your boyfriend or any other rando could\u2019ve been following us this whole time! How many tags do you have?\u201d\n\u201cUm, there\u2019s one on my wallet, my keychain, my camera, my suitcase and my jacket.\u201d\nMy eyes scope the rear-view mirror.\n\u201cQuick, give them here!\u201d\nMargot starts gathering the plastic white discs from her possessions. One by one, I frantically pitch the AirTags out the open window into the speeding gravel, each shattering on impact.\nAfter the last one is destroyed, I breathe a sigh of relief and wind the window up.\n\u201cSorry, Jane\u201d Margot apologizes. \u201cI didn\u2019t know all that. Maybe Heath isn\u2019t good news after all.\u201d Yawning, she starts to nod off. \u201cThanks for being a good friend. Wake me in Santa Barbara.\u201d\nAs Margot naps, I turn my gaze from the gorgeous sunset in the windscreen to my sleeping friend\u2014an even more beautiful sight.\nIf only she knew how much I\u2019ve always loved her. If only she could appreciate women instead of ugly men. Well, she won\u2019t have that option any longer.\nWith a smirk, I pluck her still-illuminated phone from her hands and erase its contents, tossing it out the window like the AirTags. By the time we reach the isolated cabin, she\u2019ll be too far from civilization to escape.\nAnd her caring, completely harmless boyfriend won\u2019t be able to find and rescue her.\nEvery girl needs a BFF.\nBut this girl needs a girlfriend.",
    "summary": "The protagonist and her best friend Margot are on a girls' weekend road trip to Santa Barbara when the protagonist realizes that Margot's boyfriend has been secretly tracking her with Apple AirTags. She quickly throws out all of the AirTags and erases Margot's phone before they reach their destination, an isolated cabin. The protagonist hopes to keep Margot away from the potentially dangerous boyfriend and help her find someone better\u2014a girlfriend.",
    "model": "text-davinci-003",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "5895fa7d78264dfc848609d8feb41e34",
    "story": "Every girl needs a BFF who can give it to them straight about their life choices.\n\u201cBabe, how long until we get to Santa Barbara?\u201d asks Margot from the passenger seat, reapplying lip gloss. \u201cI want to start our girls\u2019 weekend already!\u201d\n\u201cLike at least another hour\u201d I laugh whilst driving. \u201cRelax, the karaoke bars ain\u2019t going anywhere.\u201d\nMy bestie smiles, staring out the window as our car whizzes past the scenic California orchards.\n\u201cYeah...it\u2019s just that I told Heath I\u2019d let him know when we arrived.\u201d\nI avert my eyes from the road to raise my eyebrows at my friend.\n\u201cOh come on, Jane!\u201d she protests, her tone defensive. \u201cYou know how it is with boyfriends. He\u2019s just protective.\u201d\n\u201cHmmm, no, I don\u2019t recall anything in the dating handbook about guys needing to know their girlfriends\u2019 exact itineraries\u201d I answer judgmentally. \u201cSeriously, next you\u2019ll be telling me this dude\u2019s tracking your location or something...\u201d\nAn awkward silence follows, leaving only the hum of the radio.\n\u201cWhat the fuck, Margot? Heath\u2019s tracking you?!\u201d\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s not like that!\u201d Margot argues. \u201cHeath\u2019s just paranoid about items getting lost, so he bought some Apple AirTags to put on my stuff\u201d.\nI gasp, shaking the steering wheel.\n\u201cMargot! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!\u201d\n\u201cWh-what\u2019s so dangerous about it?\u201d stammers Margot, her assured resolve slipping.\n\u201cAnyone can track your AirTags using an iPhone. It\u2019s creepy! Your boyfriend or any other rando could\u2019ve been following us this whole time! How many tags do you have?\u201d\n\u201cUm, there\u2019s one on my wallet, my keychain, my camera, my suitcase and my jacket.\u201d\nMy eyes scope the rear-view mirror.\n\u201cQuick, give them here!\u201d\nMargot starts gathering the plastic white discs from her possessions. One by one, I frantically pitch the AirTags out the open window into the speeding gravel, each shattering on impact.\nAfter the last one is destroyed, I breathe a sigh of relief and wind the window up.\n\u201cSorry, Jane\u201d Margot apologizes. \u201cI didn\u2019t know all that. Maybe Heath isn\u2019t good news after all.\u201d Yawning, she starts to nod off. \u201cThanks for being a good friend. Wake me in Santa Barbara.\u201d\nAs Margot naps, I turn my gaze from the gorgeous sunset in the windscreen to my sleeping friend\u2014an even more beautiful sight.\nIf only she knew how much I\u2019ve always loved her. If only she could appreciate women instead of ugly men. Well, she won\u2019t have that option any longer.\nWith a smirk, I pluck her still-illuminated phone from her hands and erase its contents, tossing it out the window like the AirTags. By the time we reach the isolated cabin, she\u2019ll be too far from civilization to escape.\nAnd her caring, completely harmless boyfriend won\u2019t be able to find and rescue her.\nEvery girl needs a BFF.\nBut this girl needs a girlfriend.",
    "summary": "A best friend, Jane, and Margot go on a girls' weekend to Santa Barbara. On the way, Margot mentions that her boyfriend, Heath, wants to know their exact location. Jane becomes concerned and discovers that Heath has been tracking Margot with Apple AirTags. Jane throws them all out of the car and begins to see Margot in a new light. She realizes that she has always loved Margot and erases her phone so that she cannot contact her boyfriend. The story ends with Jane taking Margot to an isolated cabin, far from civilization, where she cannot escape.",
    "model": "chatGPT",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "4044f0016b7842709406c52ad9303732",
    "story": "Every girl needs a BFF who can give it to them straight about their life choices.\n\u201cBabe, how long until we get to Santa Barbara?\u201d asks Margot from the passenger seat, reapplying lip gloss. \u201cI want to start our girls\u2019 weekend already!\u201d\n\u201cLike at least another hour\u201d I laugh whilst driving. \u201cRelax, the karaoke bars ain\u2019t going anywhere.\u201d\nMy bestie smiles, staring out the window as our car whizzes past the scenic California orchards.\n\u201cYeah...it\u2019s just that I told Heath I\u2019d let him know when we arrived.\u201d\nI avert my eyes from the road to raise my eyebrows at my friend.\n\u201cOh come on, Jane!\u201d she protests, her tone defensive. \u201cYou know how it is with boyfriends. He\u2019s just protective.\u201d\n\u201cHmmm, no, I don\u2019t recall anything in the dating handbook about guys needing to know their girlfriends\u2019 exact itineraries\u201d I answer judgmentally. \u201cSeriously, next you\u2019ll be telling me this dude\u2019s tracking your location or something...\u201d\nAn awkward silence follows, leaving only the hum of the radio.\n\u201cWhat the fuck, Margot? Heath\u2019s tracking you?!\u201d\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s not like that!\u201d Margot argues. \u201cHeath\u2019s just paranoid about items getting lost, so he bought some Apple AirTags to put on my stuff\u201d.\nI gasp, shaking the steering wheel.\n\u201cMargot! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!\u201d\n\u201cWh-what\u2019s so dangerous about it?\u201d stammers Margot, her assured resolve slipping.\n\u201cAnyone can track your AirTags using an iPhone. It\u2019s creepy! Your boyfriend or any other rando could\u2019ve been following us this whole time! How many tags do you have?\u201d\n\u201cUm, there\u2019s one on my wallet, my keychain, my camera, my suitcase and my jacket.\u201d\nMy eyes scope the rear-view mirror.\n\u201cQuick, give them here!\u201d\nMargot starts gathering the plastic white discs from her possessions. One by one, I frantically pitch the AirTags out the open window into the speeding gravel, each shattering on impact.\nAfter the last one is destroyed, I breathe a sigh of relief and wind the window up.\n\u201cSorry, Jane\u201d Margot apologizes. \u201cI didn\u2019t know all that. Maybe Heath isn\u2019t good news after all.\u201d Yawning, she starts to nod off. \u201cThanks for being a good friend. Wake me in Santa Barbara.\u201d\nAs Margot naps, I turn my gaze from the gorgeous sunset in the windscreen to my sleeping friend\u2014an even more beautiful sight.\nIf only she knew how much I\u2019ve always loved her. If only she could appreciate women instead of ugly men. Well, she won\u2019t have that option any longer.\nWith a smirk, I pluck her still-illuminated phone from her hands and erase its contents, tossing it out the window like the AirTags. By the time we reach the isolated cabin, she\u2019ll be too far from civilization to escape.\nAnd her caring, completely harmless boyfriend won\u2019t be able to find and rescue her.\nEvery girl needs a BFF.\nBut this girl needs a girlfriend.",
    "summary": "The story is narrated from the perspective of Jane, who is driving her best friend Margot to Santa Barbara for a girls' weekend getaway. During the drive, Margot mentions that her boyfriend Heath wanted her to let him know when they arrived in Santa Barbara. This raises Jane's suspicion about Heath's behavior in the relationship. When Margot admits that Heath has been tracking her location using AirTags on her belongings, Jane forces Margot to throw the AirTags out the window, concerned for her safety. However, it is revealed that Jane's true motivation is her romantic feelings for Margot. Jane proceeds to erase Margot's phone and plans to isolate her in a cabin, wanting Margot for herself and seeking to remove Heath and any other men from the picture. The story culminates with the sinister twist that Jane's concern for Margot's well-being is merely a facade for her own selfish and unethical goals.",
    "model": "claude",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "source": "original",
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      0,
      1
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  },
  {
    "id": "79115223876469740491077b01",
    "summary": "The story is narrated by a being that exists outside human life, observing humanity from a distant perspective. It appears to be a sophisticated form of extraterrestrial life, fascinated by the way humans live, behave, and interact. From their standpoint, human life seems very rudimentary (eating, sleeping, seeking enjoyment), short-term minded (waging wars for land and resources), and destructive (killing each other for trivial reasons).\n\nThe narrator mentions the explosion of a star NS-41200 that resulted in the death of trillions of galactic beings and the forced migration of the survivors to another star. The parallels between this recounting and human history of war, death, and forced migration are highlighted.\n\nThe narration praises humans for their resilience in the face of adversity, ingenuity, and the impressive survival instinct. However, it also expresses concern over the future of the human race, pointing out that their planet will eventually become inhospitable, and the human race is likely to be extinguished unless they manage to become an interstellar species.\n\nThe narrator further touches upon the diversity and richness of human cultures and languages, contrasting it to their own singular planetary culture. It also raises concern over how humans will fare when they inevitably make contact with extraterrestrial civilizations, indicating that many civilizations have not survived such encounters.\n\nThe story ends with the narrator expressing a wish for humans not just to survive, but to thrive and learn in the face of future adversities. It emphasizes the uniqueness of the human spirit of hope in an otherwise grim and desolate universe and suggests that this spirit of hope is perhaps what truly defines humanity.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "[I wish I were a human.]\n\n[Life is so simple for the humans, on their mud ball. A human is a basic creature. It respires. It ingests. It copulates; it weeps and giggles its days and nights away. It makes its mind blurry with ethyls and hydroxyls, or lucid with fragrant xanthines.]\n\n[A human does not worry about the relentless, trickling erosion of orderedness. A human does not care that, in a few short eons, the universe's particles will settle into a meandering, lukewarm soup, devoid of any structure-forming desires.]\n\n[I often catch myself gazing, transfixed, at their planetary broadcast. Fickle, curious creatures. Always restless. They throw their lives away at a moment's whim, for the most trivial of reasons. Land-states send mountains and mountains of humans to brutalize one another, for equally-sized mountains of dirt and petroleum. Alliances form and are broken within a few Earth-cycles, and the ultra-offspring of those humans who died for each other promptly exterminate each other.]\n\n[In NS-41200, a star exploded. In half a planet-cycle, three habitable planets were consumed by a cascade of gallium and arsenic. Four trillion galactics now begin their slumbering journey towards NS-40902 in myriad spacecraft. It has been reported that, within a ninety-nine percent confidence interval, between zero and eight billion will survive upon their arrival, twelve kilocycles from now.]\n\n[Romes, Brittanias, Persias, Tangs, Aztecs, Meijis. Like speckles of icy dust in the shadow of a comet. The fact that humans even bother to name their civilizations betrays their exuberant myopia. Every time a human arm, iron lump in its grasp, swings to meet a human neck, a trillion galactics are thrown screaming into existence. Every time a pair of humans embrace in rapture, a trillion galactics' agonizing wails are extinguished, as if a flicker of a pulsar.]\n\n[How can a human bring itself to comprehend all the pains and pleasures in our universe? To us, a human is like one of its lapdogs, blissfully unaware, joyful in its stupidity. In a hundred Earth-cycles, their planet will be inhospitable. In a few billion more, their star will engulf it in the flames of its dying cry. One can only hope they have achieved interstellarity before then, but no star system with their developmental characteristics has ever been documented to do so.]\n\n[Doubtless, humans know what hardship means\u2014or at least what it suggests. They have survived catastrophic crust-ruptures. They have outsmarted every other organic on their planet, and have even extincted the very same predators that hunted their ancestors. They have cast themselves, in droves, into their immense liquid oceans in flimsy, primitive hydrocraft, in search of providence on faraway shores. And though they know hardship, they also know hope. Hope, evergreen. Will they still nurture hope in their hearts when they are vagabonds not in a hydrocraft on a salty ocean, but in a spacecraft in the cold, uncaring vacuum of space?]\n\n[Humans. Dogged, rustic beings. Does a human know infinity? Does it understand eternity?]\n\n[When our planet was still young, barely cooled from the molecular cloud from which it accreted, we, like the humans, did not know many things. Like them, we slowly learned the laws that govern our universe, our place in time and space. But there were things we never learned. To know not one culture, but many. To speak not one language, but thousands. To live, to die, to kill for these things. Language. Culture. Here, we were always one unit, until we established contact with other galactics. Only then did we learn, as we had long suspected, that the reaches of consciousness stretched far beyond our own shores.]\n\n[When humans establish contact, as they inevitably will, they will face an altogether different adversity. Many galactic civilizations have not survived such an event.]\n\n[I hope they survive their encounter. I sincerely do. I hope they thrive and learn, but most of all, I hope that their spirit of hope flourishes. The universe does not have a lot of hope in it. Mostly, it is full of repulsive energy, with black matter, pockmarked with hydrogen, breaking up the pale emptiness. Hope is not repulsive. Hope brings things together. Perhaps this is what it means to be a human. To have hope. To be human.]",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
      0,
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  },
  {
    "id": "81670585335894791077b01",
    "summary": "The story is told from the perspective of a non-human entity observing humanity from afar. The narrator marvels at the simplicity and resilience of human life, contrasting it with the vast, complex, and often brutal realities of the galaxy.\n\nThe narrator reflects on the fleeting nature of human civilizations and the cyclical nature of their conflicts, while also acknowledging the immense suffering and loss of life experienced by galactic civilizations. Despite this, humans persist, driven by hope and the ability to overcome adversity on their own planet.\n\nAs the narrator's species learned the laws of the universe and their place within it, they remained unified until encountering other galactic civilizations. The narrator anticipates that humans will eventually make contact with other galactic civilizations and hopes that they will survive and thrive, maintaining their spirit of hope in the face of the challenges they will encounter.\n\nUltimately, the narrator suggests that hope, the force that brings things together in a universe mostly composed of repulsive energy and emptiness, may be the defining characteristic of humanity.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "[I wish I were a human.]\n\n[Life is so simple for the humans, on their mud ball. A human is a basic creature. It respires. It ingests. It copulates; it weeps and giggles its days and nights away. It makes its mind blurry with ethyls and hydroxyls, or lucid with fragrant xanthines.]\n\n[A human does not worry about the relentless, trickling erosion of orderedness. A human does not care that, in a few short eons, the universe's particles will settle into a meandering, lukewarm soup, devoid of any structure-forming desires.]\n\n[I often catch myself gazing, transfixed, at their planetary broadcast. Fickle, curious creatures. Always restless. They throw their lives away at a moment's whim, for the most trivial of reasons. Land-states send mountains and mountains of humans to brutalize one another, for equally-sized mountains of dirt and petroleum. Alliances form and are broken within a few Earth-cycles, and the ultra-offspring of those humans who died for each other promptly exterminate each other.]\n\n[In NS-41200, a star exploded. In half a planet-cycle, three habitable planets were consumed by a cascade of gallium and arsenic. Four trillion galactics now begin their slumbering journey towards NS-40902 in myriad spacecraft. It has been reported that, within a ninety-nine percent confidence interval, between zero and eight billion will survive upon their arrival, twelve kilocycles from now.]\n\n[Romes, Brittanias, Persias, Tangs, Aztecs, Meijis. Like speckles of icy dust in the shadow of a comet. The fact that humans even bother to name their civilizations betrays their exuberant myopia. Every time a human arm, iron lump in its grasp, swings to meet a human neck, a trillion galactics are thrown screaming into existence. Every time a pair of humans embrace in rapture, a trillion galactics' agonizing wails are extinguished, as if a flicker of a pulsar.]\n\n[How can a human bring itself to comprehend all the pains and pleasures in our universe? To us, a human is like one of its lapdogs, blissfully unaware, joyful in its stupidity. In a hundred Earth-cycles, their planet will be inhospitable. In a few billion more, their star will engulf it in the flames of its dying cry. One can only hope they have achieved interstellarity before then, but no star system with their developmental characteristics has ever been documented to do so.]\n\n[Doubtless, humans know what hardship means\u2014or at least what it suggests. They have survived catastrophic crust-ruptures. They have outsmarted every other organic on their planet, and have even extincted the very same predators that hunted their ancestors. They have cast themselves, in droves, into their immense liquid oceans in flimsy, primitive hydrocraft, in search of providence on faraway shores. And though they know hardship, they also know hope. Hope, evergreen. Will they still nurture hope in their hearts when they are vagabonds not in a hydrocraft on a salty ocean, but in a spacecraft in the cold, uncaring vacuum of space?]\n\n[Humans. Dogged, rustic beings. Does a human know infinity? Does it understand eternity?]\n\n[When our planet was still young, barely cooled from the molecular cloud from which it accreted, we, like the humans, did not know many things. Like them, we slowly learned the laws that govern our universe, our place in time and space. But there were things we never learned. To know not one culture, but many. To speak not one language, but thousands. To live, to die, to kill for these things. Language. Culture. Here, we were always one unit, until we established contact with other galactics. Only then did we learn, as we had long suspected, that the reaches of consciousness stretched far beyond our own shores.]\n\n[When humans establish contact, as they inevitably will, they will face an altogether different adversity. Many galactic civilizations have not survived such an event.]\n\n[I hope they survive their encounter. I sincerely do. I hope they thrive and learn, but most of all, I hope that their spirit of hope flourishes. The universe does not have a lot of hope in it. Mostly, it is full of repulsive energy, with black matter, pockmarked with hydrogen, breaking up the pale emptiness. Hope is not repulsive. Hope brings things together. Perhaps this is what it means to be a human. To have hope. To be human.]",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
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  },
  {
    "id": "73409150676328394731077b01",
    "summary": " The story follows the reflections of an observer from another planet who is fascinated by the humans on Earth. The observer is amazed by the simple and carefree nature of humans, as well as their ignorance of the eventual end of their planet and their own civilization. The observer also discusses the resilience and tenacity of humans in the face of hardship and their capacity for hope. The story ends with the observer expressing his hope for the survival and success of humans.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "[I wish I were a human.]\n\n[Life is so simple for the humans, on their mud ball. A human is a basic creature. It respires. It ingests. It copulates; it weeps and giggles its days and nights away. It makes its mind blurry with ethyls and hydroxyls, or lucid with fragrant xanthines.]\n\n[A human does not worry about the relentless, trickling erosion of orderedness. A human does not care that, in a few short eons, the universe's particles will settle into a meandering, lukewarm soup, devoid of any structure-forming desires.]\n\n[I often catch myself gazing, transfixed, at their planetary broadcast. Fickle, curious creatures. Always restless. They throw their lives away at a moment's whim, for the most trivial of reasons. Land-states send mountains and mountains of humans to brutalize one another, for equally-sized mountains of dirt and petroleum. Alliances form and are broken within a few Earth-cycles, and the ultra-offspring of those humans who died for each other promptly exterminate each other.]\n\n[In NS-41200, a star exploded. In half a planet-cycle, three habitable planets were consumed by a cascade of gallium and arsenic. Four trillion galactics now begin their slumbering journey towards NS-40902 in myriad spacecraft. It has been reported that, within a ninety-nine percent confidence interval, between zero and eight billion will survive upon their arrival, twelve kilocycles from now.]\n\n[Romes, Brittanias, Persias, Tangs, Aztecs, Meijis. Like speckles of icy dust in the shadow of a comet. The fact that humans even bother to name their civilizations betrays their exuberant myopia. Every time a human arm, iron lump in its grasp, swings to meet a human neck, a trillion galactics are thrown screaming into existence. Every time a pair of humans embrace in rapture, a trillion galactics' agonizing wails are extinguished, as if a flicker of a pulsar.]\n\n[How can a human bring itself to comprehend all the pains and pleasures in our universe? To us, a human is like one of its lapdogs, blissfully unaware, joyful in its stupidity. In a hundred Earth-cycles, their planet will be inhospitable. In a few billion more, their star will engulf it in the flames of its dying cry. One can only hope they have achieved interstellarity before then, but no star system with their developmental characteristics has ever been documented to do so.]\n\n[Doubtless, humans know what hardship means\u2014or at least what it suggests. They have survived catastrophic crust-ruptures. They have outsmarted every other organic on their planet, and have even extincted the very same predators that hunted their ancestors. They have cast themselves, in droves, into their immense liquid oceans in flimsy, primitive hydrocraft, in search of providence on faraway shores. And though they know hardship, they also know hope. Hope, evergreen. Will they still nurture hope in their hearts when they are vagabonds not in a hydrocraft on a salty ocean, but in a spacecraft in the cold, uncaring vacuum of space?]\n\n[Humans. Dogged, rustic beings. Does a human know infinity? Does it understand eternity?]\n\n[When our planet was still young, barely cooled from the molecular cloud from which it accreted, we, like the humans, did not know many things. Like them, we slowly learned the laws that govern our universe, our place in time and space. But there were things we never learned. To know not one culture, but many. To speak not one language, but thousands. To live, to die, to kill for these things. Language. Culture. Here, we were always one unit, until we established contact with other galactics. Only then did we learn, as we had long suspected, that the reaches of consciousness stretched far beyond our own shores.]\n\n[When humans establish contact, as they inevitably will, they will face an altogether different adversity. Many galactic civilizations have not survived such an event.]\n\n[I hope they survive their encounter. I sincerely do. I hope they thrive and learn, but most of all, I hope that their spirit of hope flourishes. The universe does not have a lot of hope in it. Mostly, it is full of repulsive energy, with black matter, pockmarked with hydrogen, breaking up the pale emptiness. Hope is not repulsive. Hope brings things together. Perhaps this is what it means to be a human. To have hope. To be human.]",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "791152238764697404910ppjk4",
    "summary": "A man is consumed by his social media feed, struggling to reconcile his own ennui with the lively, successful lives on screen. Despite knowing what he wants to achieve and how, he is unable to execute. His fear of potential obstacles consumes him, and he tends to recoup, paralyzed by his thoughts. One day, he forces himself to take a walk to his favorite park bench for fresh air and respite. In a surreal experience, he meets different versions of himself from past life events. After acknowledging these are not first or last-time experiences, he suddenly feels a sense of control and ownership over his own life.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " Scrolling past each and every post on his feed, growing weary of all that was on screen, he couldn't stop. They kept on going like a ladder into a bottomless grave, every post joining to form one foolproof, easy-to-climb-down ladder. His thumb felt like it were completely out of his control. It was in perpetual motion, addicted to the ecstasy of swiping up, like a little nose sniffing a glass screen.\n\nBeing in Marketing, it was part of his job, he reassured himself. He continued to gaze at the screen with his dark droopy eyes, staring at the lives of the happy cheerful people living their life to the fullest, on screen, going places and finding success, or at the very least, a very antiquated version of it. It seemed as though the world was on a collective upward mobility streak and he was late to the party.\n\nHe knew that there was more for him to do, he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it, but, what eluded him was why he just could not find it in him to get up and do it. Something was keeping him from taking that first step. The search for that obstacle took him to some very dark places, places filled with obstacles of different shapes and sizes, no solutions. \n\nHe spent half a day thinking about different ways to get to his goal, and the rest thinking about all the obstacles that he may or may not have to overcome as part of pursuing the well-thought-out plan. At the end of the day, his tired mind would come to the conclusion that the pain is much greater than the reward and spends whatever is left of the day, week or year recouping from the mental toll of figuring out his life. This goes on till that nagging feeling of failure overtakes the pleasures his glass-sniffing thumb brings.\n\nLife, he thought, is a circle with a set diameter, and he runs around that circle like a helpless hamster, witnessing everything around him, convincing himself to run faster to \u2018watch more of the world, to come up with an idea for himself one of these days but, not today, it\u2019s too late today\u2019. \n\n\u201cWhy not today? This is why I never do anything. I should do something, today! \u201c\n\n\u201cThe only question is what? if I can answer that I am golden, I will work towards it no matter what.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut First, I need some fresh air and a coffee.\u201d\n\nHe did not wait to discuss, with himself, whether to go out or not, because he knew that he would end up on the couch with his thoughts taking a dark turn. That was the motivation he needed to get out of the couch and out of his stuffy room. \n\nHe walked to his favourite bench in the park next to his house. It was empty as usual, and that was a relief. He was not in the mood to start a conversation. He usually enjoyed it, but this was not the time. He just wanted to be with himself.\n\nHe sat down and his mind was empty. Nothing. For some reason, he could not think of anything to think about. He was overwhelmed and felt strange.  \n\nHis vision started to tunnel, everyone in the park started to disappear. He realized that the doughnuts which he was surviving on for the last two days were probably not enough. He could not even move his eyes from the tree that he locked on to to avoid the couple who were about to enter his line of sight. They too disappeared in a few seconds, he felt a bit terrified, not enough to keep his curiosity at bay.\n\nWhen he finally turned to see if he was hallucinating he realized that all the people had been replaced with himself from different phases of his life. He saw himself on his first bike, just after he fell down and bruised his knees, himself when he was in school just after he was pinned down to a desk and got some disgustingly poignant water poured all over him, him just after he was dumped by the love of his life, it felt surreal. \n\nHe slowly turned to the right to see Stan Rogers, the last artist he listened to, give him a nod and started singing\n\n*\u201cIt's a damn tough life full of toil and strife\u201d*\n\nHe turned around to see more of himself. The closer he looked at the apparitions he realized something, it was neither the first nor the last time that any of those things happened to him.\n\nHe could feel the sun and the wind like they were there just for him, he felt like he owned that moment. He felt like he was in control, he felt like he was in \u2018his\u2019 world. It felt strangely familiar.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "816705853358947910ppjk4",
    "summary": "The story follows a man who works in marketing and spends much of his time scrolling through social media posts, feeling envious of the seemingly successful and happy lives others portray online. He feels stuck in a cycle of wanting to achieve his goals but constantly getting bogged down by thoughts of potential obstacles and the pain of pursuing his dreams.\n\nOne day, feeling overwhelmed and in need of fresh air, he walks to his favorite bench in a nearby park. As he sits there, his vision begins to tunnel, and he realizes he hasn't been eating properly. Suddenly, the people in the park are replaced by versions of himself from different stages of his life, each representing a challenging moment he has faced.\n\nAs he observes these apparitions, he comes to the realization that these difficult experiences were not isolated incidents but recurring themes in his life. Despite this, he feels a sense of ownership and control over the moment, as if the world is his own. The story ends with him experiencing a strange familiarity in this surreal situation, hinting at a potential epiphany or a new perspective on his life's struggles.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " Scrolling past each and every post on his feed, growing weary of all that was on screen, he couldn't stop. They kept on going like a ladder into a bottomless grave, every post joining to form one foolproof, easy-to-climb-down ladder. His thumb felt like it were completely out of his control. It was in perpetual motion, addicted to the ecstasy of swiping up, like a little nose sniffing a glass screen.\n\nBeing in Marketing, it was part of his job, he reassured himself. He continued to gaze at the screen with his dark droopy eyes, staring at the lives of the happy cheerful people living their life to the fullest, on screen, going places and finding success, or at the very least, a very antiquated version of it. It seemed as though the world was on a collective upward mobility streak and he was late to the party.\n\nHe knew that there was more for him to do, he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it, but, what eluded him was why he just could not find it in him to get up and do it. Something was keeping him from taking that first step. The search for that obstacle took him to some very dark places, places filled with obstacles of different shapes and sizes, no solutions. \n\nHe spent half a day thinking about different ways to get to his goal, and the rest thinking about all the obstacles that he may or may not have to overcome as part of pursuing the well-thought-out plan. At the end of the day, his tired mind would come to the conclusion that the pain is much greater than the reward and spends whatever is left of the day, week or year recouping from the mental toll of figuring out his life. This goes on till that nagging feeling of failure overtakes the pleasures his glass-sniffing thumb brings.\n\nLife, he thought, is a circle with a set diameter, and he runs around that circle like a helpless hamster, witnessing everything around him, convincing himself to run faster to \u2018watch more of the world, to come up with an idea for himself one of these days but, not today, it\u2019s too late today\u2019. \n\n\u201cWhy not today? This is why I never do anything. I should do something, today! \u201c\n\n\u201cThe only question is what? if I can answer that I am golden, I will work towards it no matter what.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut First, I need some fresh air and a coffee.\u201d\n\nHe did not wait to discuss, with himself, whether to go out or not, because he knew that he would end up on the couch with his thoughts taking a dark turn. That was the motivation he needed to get out of the couch and out of his stuffy room. \n\nHe walked to his favourite bench in the park next to his house. It was empty as usual, and that was a relief. He was not in the mood to start a conversation. He usually enjoyed it, but this was not the time. He just wanted to be with himself.\n\nHe sat down and his mind was empty. Nothing. For some reason, he could not think of anything to think about. He was overwhelmed and felt strange.  \n\nHis vision started to tunnel, everyone in the park started to disappear. He realized that the doughnuts which he was surviving on for the last two days were probably not enough. He could not even move his eyes from the tree that he locked on to to avoid the couple who were about to enter his line of sight. They too disappeared in a few seconds, he felt a bit terrified, not enough to keep his curiosity at bay.\n\nWhen he finally turned to see if he was hallucinating he realized that all the people had been replaced with himself from different phases of his life. He saw himself on his first bike, just after he fell down and bruised his knees, himself when he was in school just after he was pinned down to a desk and got some disgustingly poignant water poured all over him, him just after he was dumped by the love of his life, it felt surreal. \n\nHe slowly turned to the right to see Stan Rogers, the last artist he listened to, give him a nod and started singing\n\n*\u201cIt's a damn tough life full of toil and strife\u201d*\n\nHe turned around to see more of himself. The closer he looked at the apparitions he realized something, it was neither the first nor the last time that any of those things happened to him.\n\nHe could feel the sun and the wind like they were there just for him, he felt like he owned that moment. He felt like he was in control, he felt like he was in \u2018his\u2019 world. It felt strangely familiar.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "734091506763283947310ppjk4",
    "summary": " The story follows a man who is constantly scrolling through social media and feeling unfulfilled with his own life. After a moment of realization, he decides to step outside and sit on a bench in the park. Suddenly, he is transported to different moments in his life and is visited by different versions of himself. Through this experience, he learns to take control of his own life and appreciate the present moment.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " Scrolling past each and every post on his feed, growing weary of all that was on screen, he couldn't stop. They kept on going like a ladder into a bottomless grave, every post joining to form one foolproof, easy-to-climb-down ladder. His thumb felt like it were completely out of his control. It was in perpetual motion, addicted to the ecstasy of swiping up, like a little nose sniffing a glass screen.\n\nBeing in Marketing, it was part of his job, he reassured himself. He continued to gaze at the screen with his dark droopy eyes, staring at the lives of the happy cheerful people living their life to the fullest, on screen, going places and finding success, or at the very least, a very antiquated version of it. It seemed as though the world was on a collective upward mobility streak and he was late to the party.\n\nHe knew that there was more for him to do, he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it, but, what eluded him was why he just could not find it in him to get up and do it. Something was keeping him from taking that first step. The search for that obstacle took him to some very dark places, places filled with obstacles of different shapes and sizes, no solutions. \n\nHe spent half a day thinking about different ways to get to his goal, and the rest thinking about all the obstacles that he may or may not have to overcome as part of pursuing the well-thought-out plan. At the end of the day, his tired mind would come to the conclusion that the pain is much greater than the reward and spends whatever is left of the day, week or year recouping from the mental toll of figuring out his life. This goes on till that nagging feeling of failure overtakes the pleasures his glass-sniffing thumb brings.\n\nLife, he thought, is a circle with a set diameter, and he runs around that circle like a helpless hamster, witnessing everything around him, convincing himself to run faster to \u2018watch more of the world, to come up with an idea for himself one of these days but, not today, it\u2019s too late today\u2019. \n\n\u201cWhy not today? This is why I never do anything. I should do something, today! \u201c\n\n\u201cThe only question is what? if I can answer that I am golden, I will work towards it no matter what.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut First, I need some fresh air and a coffee.\u201d\n\nHe did not wait to discuss, with himself, whether to go out or not, because he knew that he would end up on the couch with his thoughts taking a dark turn. That was the motivation he needed to get out of the couch and out of his stuffy room. \n\nHe walked to his favourite bench in the park next to his house. It was empty as usual, and that was a relief. He was not in the mood to start a conversation. He usually enjoyed it, but this was not the time. He just wanted to be with himself.\n\nHe sat down and his mind was empty. Nothing. For some reason, he could not think of anything to think about. He was overwhelmed and felt strange.  \n\nHis vision started to tunnel, everyone in the park started to disappear. He realized that the doughnuts which he was surviving on for the last two days were probably not enough. He could not even move his eyes from the tree that he locked on to to avoid the couple who were about to enter his line of sight. They too disappeared in a few seconds, he felt a bit terrified, not enough to keep his curiosity at bay.\n\nWhen he finally turned to see if he was hallucinating he realized that all the people had been replaced with himself from different phases of his life. He saw himself on his first bike, just after he fell down and bruised his knees, himself when he was in school just after he was pinned down to a desk and got some disgustingly poignant water poured all over him, him just after he was dumped by the love of his life, it felt surreal. \n\nHe slowly turned to the right to see Stan Rogers, the last artist he listened to, give him a nod and started singing\n\n*\u201cIt's a damn tough life full of toil and strife\u201d*\n\nHe turned around to see more of himself. The closer he looked at the apparitions he realized something, it was neither the first nor the last time that any of those things happened to him.\n\nHe could feel the sun and the wind like they were there just for him, he felt like he owned that moment. He felt like he was in control, he felt like he was in \u2018his\u2019 world. It felt strangely familiar.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049115rnsc",
    "summary": "Casey, a struggling artist, becomes a housekeeper for Meredith, a 77-year-old woman to make ends meet. Meredith offers Casey $1000 to paint her as she imagines she would have looked at 30. After completing the painting, Casey is asked to sign it as \u201cReynaldo,\u201d which she refuses to do, causing Meredith to ruin the painting. Stubborn Casey demands payment, leaves, and cuts ties with Meredith. She later learns that \u201cReynaldo\u201d was Meredith's cat, who supposedly painted better than Casey, hurting her pride. In financial struggles again, Casey discovers several paintings by Reynaldo on the walls of a coffee shop, only to regret her decision. She laments her missed opportunity of getting paid well for painting due to her prideful behavior.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The Painter Cat\n\n​\n\nCasey didn\u2019t want to take the job but she had to. She needed the money to pay the rent and selling her paintings wasn\u2019t covering it. She\u2019d never worked as a maid before. She seldom cleaned her own house but when a woman at the grocery store remarked how badly she needed a housekeeper and was willing to pay, Casey sucked it up and introduced herself, offering her \u201cservices\u201d.\n\n​\n\nThe woman\u2019s name was Meredith. She was 77 years old. She had a modest home in a very nice neighborhood and had asked Casey to come twice a week. Casey would be paid 300 a week \u2013 which was pretty good. The first few times were uneventful. Meredith\u2019s house was well maintained and the work minimal. All seemed to be going well and then one day Meredith asked Casey to come into the study. She had a gift for her.\n\n​\n\nThe gift was a canvas, brushes and paint. Meredith wanted Casey to paint her. She would be paid 1000 dollars for the painting when it was finished. Casey accepted the offer immediately. Meredith only asked that Casey paint her as if she were 30 years old but wanted to sit as the model. Casey was confused at first. How to take an old woman and paint her as 30 without ever having known what she\u2019d look like at that age. Meredith didn\u2019t seem too hung up on details, just told her to paint what she thought. Meredith took a seat on a chair near the window. The direct light defined every wrinkle and crevice in her sagging skin. Casey laid out the supplies and set about painting Meredith as she might have been at 30. It wasn\u2019t an easy task.\n\n​\n\nCasey painted the entire day. Meredith prepared them dinner and they resumed again shortly after. It got dark and Casey kept painting. The lamp light softened Meredith\u2019s features and Casey found herself enjoying the task and took liberty, creating Meredith as lush and fabulous as the soft golden light made her almost beautiful. By midnight the painting was done. Meredith found it remarkable and was overwhelmed with joy. Casey was about to sign it when Meredith stopped her and asked if she would simply sign it \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey was confused. She didn\u2019t want to sign someone else\u2019s name to her work. Meredith insisted and offered no explanation. Casey, tired and confused, grew agitated with the old woman and insisted on signing her name \u2013 which she did. Meredith was so distraught she picked up the brush, set it into the black paint and set about destroying the painting. Casey tried to stop her but Meredith was determined. At last Meredith stepped back, dropped the brush and retreated into her bedroom.\n\n​\n\nCasey knocked on the door and could hear Meredith crying. She finally decided to let herself in. She said she was sorry and asked to be paid. Meredith slowly got up off the bed and went to a drawer where she took out a small box and counted out ten one hundred dollar bills. Casey took the money and left.\n\n​\n\nCasey now had the money she needed for rent and did not return to clean Meredith\u2019s house. At the grocery store later that week the manager appeared annoyed with her. When Casey commented, the manager told her that Meredith had paid for a painting and that Casey had argued the directions to sign Reynaldo at the bottom. Casey was furious at the suggestion of allowing anyone else to take advantage of her hard work and talent \u2013 to which the clerk snapped - Reynaldo had been Meredith\u2019s beloved cat and was a far better painter than Casey would ever be. He had seen the painting with his own eyes and thought it was a hideous disaster.\n\n​\n\nCasey left, angry. Weeks later she found herself without rent again and no prospects for work so she took up panhandling outside a coffee bar. When she had five dollars she went inside to purchase a bagel for lunch and was amazed to see several portraits of Meredith displayed on the walls, all of them signed \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey ordered the bagel and remarked on the paintings. She was told they were painted by a cat which belonged to a woman named Meredith who was heir to a whiskey brand fortune.\n\n​\n\nCasey took her bagel and left. She was bummed that she could have peen paid lots of money to paint and that her prideful refusal had left her worse off than she had been in the beginning.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  },
  {
    "id": "8167058533589479115rnsc",
    "summary": "In the story \"The Painter Cat,\" Casey, a struggling artist, takes a job as a maid for an elderly woman named Meredith to make ends meet. One day, Meredith offers Casey $1,000 to paint a portrait of her as a 30-year-old woman. Casey accepts the offer and works hard to create the painting, taking artistic liberties to make Meredith appear youthful and beautiful.\n\nWhen the painting is finished, Meredith insists that Casey sign the name \"Reynaldo\" instead of her own. Casey refuses and signs her own name, causing Meredith to become distraught and destroy the painting. Casey leaves with the money but feels confused about the situation.\n\nLater, Casey learns from a grocery store manager that Reynaldo was actually Meredith's beloved cat, who was a better painter than Casey. Weeks later, struggling financially again, Casey sees several portraits of Meredith displayed in a coffee bar, all signed by \"Reynaldo.\" She discovers that Meredith is the heir to a whiskey brand fortune and that the paintings were created by her cat.\n\nIn the end, Casey realizes that her pride and refusal to follow Meredith's request cost her the opportunity to earn more money and left her in a worse situation than before.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The Painter Cat\n\n​\n\nCasey didn\u2019t want to take the job but she had to. She needed the money to pay the rent and selling her paintings wasn\u2019t covering it. She\u2019d never worked as a maid before. She seldom cleaned her own house but when a woman at the grocery store remarked how badly she needed a housekeeper and was willing to pay, Casey sucked it up and introduced herself, offering her \u201cservices\u201d.\n\n​\n\nThe woman\u2019s name was Meredith. She was 77 years old. She had a modest home in a very nice neighborhood and had asked Casey to come twice a week. Casey would be paid 300 a week \u2013 which was pretty good. The first few times were uneventful. Meredith\u2019s house was well maintained and the work minimal. All seemed to be going well and then one day Meredith asked Casey to come into the study. She had a gift for her.\n\n​\n\nThe gift was a canvas, brushes and paint. Meredith wanted Casey to paint her. She would be paid 1000 dollars for the painting when it was finished. Casey accepted the offer immediately. Meredith only asked that Casey paint her as if she were 30 years old but wanted to sit as the model. Casey was confused at first. How to take an old woman and paint her as 30 without ever having known what she\u2019d look like at that age. Meredith didn\u2019t seem too hung up on details, just told her to paint what she thought. Meredith took a seat on a chair near the window. The direct light defined every wrinkle and crevice in her sagging skin. Casey laid out the supplies and set about painting Meredith as she might have been at 30. It wasn\u2019t an easy task.\n\n​\n\nCasey painted the entire day. Meredith prepared them dinner and they resumed again shortly after. It got dark and Casey kept painting. The lamp light softened Meredith\u2019s features and Casey found herself enjoying the task and took liberty, creating Meredith as lush and fabulous as the soft golden light made her almost beautiful. By midnight the painting was done. Meredith found it remarkable and was overwhelmed with joy. Casey was about to sign it when Meredith stopped her and asked if she would simply sign it \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey was confused. She didn\u2019t want to sign someone else\u2019s name to her work. Meredith insisted and offered no explanation. Casey, tired and confused, grew agitated with the old woman and insisted on signing her name \u2013 which she did. Meredith was so distraught she picked up the brush, set it into the black paint and set about destroying the painting. Casey tried to stop her but Meredith was determined. At last Meredith stepped back, dropped the brush and retreated into her bedroom.\n\n​\n\nCasey knocked on the door and could hear Meredith crying. She finally decided to let herself in. She said she was sorry and asked to be paid. Meredith slowly got up off the bed and went to a drawer where she took out a small box and counted out ten one hundred dollar bills. Casey took the money and left.\n\n​\n\nCasey now had the money she needed for rent and did not return to clean Meredith\u2019s house. At the grocery store later that week the manager appeared annoyed with her. When Casey commented, the manager told her that Meredith had paid for a painting and that Casey had argued the directions to sign Reynaldo at the bottom. Casey was furious at the suggestion of allowing anyone else to take advantage of her hard work and talent \u2013 to which the clerk snapped - Reynaldo had been Meredith\u2019s beloved cat and was a far better painter than Casey would ever be. He had seen the painting with his own eyes and thought it was a hideous disaster.\n\n​\n\nCasey left, angry. Weeks later she found herself without rent again and no prospects for work so she took up panhandling outside a coffee bar. When she had five dollars she went inside to purchase a bagel for lunch and was amazed to see several portraits of Meredith displayed on the walls, all of them signed \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey ordered the bagel and remarked on the paintings. She was told they were painted by a cat which belonged to a woman named Meredith who was heir to a whiskey brand fortune.\n\n​\n\nCasey took her bagel and left. She was bummed that she could have peen paid lots of money to paint and that her prideful refusal had left her worse off than she had been in the beginning.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473115rnsc",
    "summary": " \n\nCasey, a struggling artist, reluctantly takes a job as a maid for an elderly woman named Meredith. One day, Meredith asks Casey to paint a portrait of her as if she were 30 years old, and promises to pay her $1000. While painting, Casey takes creative liberties and signs her own name on the painting. Meredith becomes upset and destroys the painting, leading Casey to leave and demand payment. Later, Casey discovers that Meredith's cat, Reynaldo, is actually the talented painter behind the portraits. Casey regrets not following Meredith's instructions and losing out on the opportunity to make money through her art.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The Painter Cat\n\n​\n\nCasey didn\u2019t want to take the job but she had to. She needed the money to pay the rent and selling her paintings wasn\u2019t covering it. She\u2019d never worked as a maid before. She seldom cleaned her own house but when a woman at the grocery store remarked how badly she needed a housekeeper and was willing to pay, Casey sucked it up and introduced herself, offering her \u201cservices\u201d.\n\n​\n\nThe woman\u2019s name was Meredith. She was 77 years old. She had a modest home in a very nice neighborhood and had asked Casey to come twice a week. Casey would be paid 300 a week \u2013 which was pretty good. The first few times were uneventful. Meredith\u2019s house was well maintained and the work minimal. All seemed to be going well and then one day Meredith asked Casey to come into the study. She had a gift for her.\n\n​\n\nThe gift was a canvas, brushes and paint. Meredith wanted Casey to paint her. She would be paid 1000 dollars for the painting when it was finished. Casey accepted the offer immediately. Meredith only asked that Casey paint her as if she were 30 years old but wanted to sit as the model. Casey was confused at first. How to take an old woman and paint her as 30 without ever having known what she\u2019d look like at that age. Meredith didn\u2019t seem too hung up on details, just told her to paint what she thought. Meredith took a seat on a chair near the window. The direct light defined every wrinkle and crevice in her sagging skin. Casey laid out the supplies and set about painting Meredith as she might have been at 30. It wasn\u2019t an easy task.\n\n​\n\nCasey painted the entire day. Meredith prepared them dinner and they resumed again shortly after. It got dark and Casey kept painting. The lamp light softened Meredith\u2019s features and Casey found herself enjoying the task and took liberty, creating Meredith as lush and fabulous as the soft golden light made her almost beautiful. By midnight the painting was done. Meredith found it remarkable and was overwhelmed with joy. Casey was about to sign it when Meredith stopped her and asked if she would simply sign it \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey was confused. She didn\u2019t want to sign someone else\u2019s name to her work. Meredith insisted and offered no explanation. Casey, tired and confused, grew agitated with the old woman and insisted on signing her name \u2013 which she did. Meredith was so distraught she picked up the brush, set it into the black paint and set about destroying the painting. Casey tried to stop her but Meredith was determined. At last Meredith stepped back, dropped the brush and retreated into her bedroom.\n\n​\n\nCasey knocked on the door and could hear Meredith crying. She finally decided to let herself in. She said she was sorry and asked to be paid. Meredith slowly got up off the bed and went to a drawer where she took out a small box and counted out ten one hundred dollar bills. Casey took the money and left.\n\n​\n\nCasey now had the money she needed for rent and did not return to clean Meredith\u2019s house. At the grocery store later that week the manager appeared annoyed with her. When Casey commented, the manager told her that Meredith had paid for a painting and that Casey had argued the directions to sign Reynaldo at the bottom. Casey was furious at the suggestion of allowing anyone else to take advantage of her hard work and talent \u2013 to which the clerk snapped - Reynaldo had been Meredith\u2019s beloved cat and was a far better painter than Casey would ever be. He had seen the painting with his own eyes and thought it was a hideous disaster.\n\n​\n\nCasey left, angry. Weeks later she found herself without rent again and no prospects for work so she took up panhandling outside a coffee bar. When she had five dollars she went inside to purchase a bagel for lunch and was amazed to see several portraits of Meredith displayed on the walls, all of them signed \u201cReynaldo\u201d.\n\n​\n\nCasey ordered the bagel and remarked on the paintings. She was told they were painted by a cat which belonged to a woman named Meredith who was heir to a whiskey brand fortune.\n\n​\n\nCasey took her bagel and left. She was bummed that she could have peen paid lots of money to paint and that her prideful refusal had left her worse off than she had been in the beginning.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049119uvro",
    "summary": "A woman named Hope, who is over 315 years old but forever looks 16, narrates her life story. A victim of Margaret Scott's curse during the Salem Witch Trials, she's immortal and unable to age. The curse was ironically placed upon her because her father, a judge in the trials, continued to participate in them despite her pleas. Throughout the years, Hope has been jealous watching others live their lives, grow old and ultimately die while she is frozen in time. However, she finds a glimmer of hope when she plans to assume the identity of a deceased baby girl named Hope Elizabeth Scott, whose family also perished in a fire in Salem. She hints at the possibility of this being her opportunity to break the curse at last.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nI've done everything I possibly can over the years. Sometimes just to survive, other times in the hope that it can all come to an end. Everything has been to no avail.\n\nHere I am.\n\nStill.\n\nI'm Hope and I'm 315 years old. I look no older than 16 though. Time has stopped for me, but keeps on passing by for all those around me. Over the years, I have been eaten up by jealously of those that get to grow up, to live their lives and most importantly die as was intended.\n\nI bet you think I'm a vampire, don't you? I wish... I could just step out into the sun to end it all, if that was the case. Maybe a silver bullet could be my way out. Death by Garlic bread would be actually quite an amazing way to go... but no. Not a vampire. My heart beats just like yours, I breathe just like you. My problem is that my father was one of the magistrates during the Salem Witch trials. He was one of those that were responsible for the last death sentences handed out.\n\nI remember being in the court room on that day. I remember Margaret Scott locking eyes with my father after they sentenced to death and saying \"Hope dies last\". I remember the chill tingling up my spine, I remember admiring the woman for not giving up. Strange thing is, I don't remember the moment when I realized that wasn't a last attempt at positivity, but a curse. She cursed my father, with me as the vessel.\n\nThe irony of it? I had argued relentlessly with my father about his part in those diabolical trials. I begged and pleased of him to step down, but apparently it had gone too far and if he did that, there would be questions as to why. It could risk our lives and open our family up for accusations. So he continued. Because of that... Here I am... still...\n\nI always like Margaret and would often sneak her some bread and cheese. She had been left destitute following the death of her husband. It's not like nowadays where there is some level of support in place, granted not the best, but so much better than it used to be 'back in the day'. That makes me sad. A person that I always found pleasant cursed me to this life.\n\nI was so distraught at my father's involvement in ther trials that I left that night, never to return to Salem until last year.  I don't know what brought me back.  I could barely fight it, so decided to 'go with the flow'... And here I am, living in the same house as I did back then.  Granted, it's changed now.  And the house has been split up into tiny apartments and by some coincidence I am in the part of the house that used to be my bedroom. \n\nMy inability to age must sound like a dream. But I can assure you it's not. Imagine being 16 forever. Not being old-looking enough to be an adult certainly makes it difficult to do much of anything - I can only ever get menial jobs, live in dodgy areas, because that's what I can afford with my wages. I can't stay in an area more than a few years because questions start to raise. After over 300 years of working I am exhausted and must have earned a nice pension many times over. I\u2019ve never been sick in the past \u2013 not even a cold. I wish for a terminal disease, surely cancer can beat me?  Maybe I need to find that glitch in the 'system'.... who knows...\n\nWith every war, every pandemic I have held onto the Hope that the end of the world is nigh. Unfortunately, us humans are a resilient bunch \u2013 we\u2019re not going anywhere any time soon.\n\nAs morbid as it is, I have a list on me of all female infants and young girls that have passed away in any area I live in, collected from cemeteries and obituaries so that I can steal their identities, their social security numbers and so forth. I feel dirty every time I do it, but if I can\u2019t die, I need to survive. \n\nNext on my list is a little baby girl, who died 16 years ago. Hope Elizabeth Scott\u2026. Happens to be my name, well apart from the surname...  A coincidence that she shares her surname with poor Margaret? Her whole family perished in a fire in my old neighbourhood in Salem. She fought for weeks in ICU, before passing. With her death, came the end of her family\u2019s linage.\n\nI\u2019ve been in touch with a questionable type who will get me all my paperwork in place. This time it feels different. Is it a coincidence? Or maybe this is my way out?\n\nMaybe Hope does die last after all...",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479119uvro",
    "summary": "In this haunting story, the protagonist, Hope, is a 315-year-old girl cursed with eternal youth by Margaret Scott, a woman sentenced to death during the Salem Witch Trials. Hope's father was one of the magistrates responsible for the death sentences, and despite Hope's pleas for him to step down, he continued his involvement, leading to Margaret cursing Hope.\n\nTrapped in the body of a 16-year-old, Hope struggles with the limitations of her apparent age, unable to secure decent jobs or live in better areas. She is forced to move frequently to avoid raising suspicions about her agelessness. Despite her longing for death, Hope remains resilient, even in the face of wars and pandemics.\n\nTo survive, Hope resorts to stealing the identities of deceased young girls, a process that leaves her feeling tainted. The story takes a curious turn when Hope discovers her next identity: Hope Elizabeth Scott, a baby girl who died 16 years ago, sharing the same first name and the surname of Margaret Scott.\n\nAs Hope prepares to assume this new identity, she wonders if it is mere coincidence or a sign that her eternal existence may finally come to an end, suggesting that perhaps \"Hope does die last\" after all.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nI've done everything I possibly can over the years. Sometimes just to survive, other times in the hope that it can all come to an end. Everything has been to no avail.\n\nHere I am.\n\nStill.\n\nI'm Hope and I'm 315 years old. I look no older than 16 though. Time has stopped for me, but keeps on passing by for all those around me. Over the years, I have been eaten up by jealously of those that get to grow up, to live their lives and most importantly die as was intended.\n\nI bet you think I'm a vampire, don't you? I wish... I could just step out into the sun to end it all, if that was the case. Maybe a silver bullet could be my way out. Death by Garlic bread would be actually quite an amazing way to go... but no. Not a vampire. My heart beats just like yours, I breathe just like you. My problem is that my father was one of the magistrates during the Salem Witch trials. He was one of those that were responsible for the last death sentences handed out.\n\nI remember being in the court room on that day. I remember Margaret Scott locking eyes with my father after they sentenced to death and saying \"Hope dies last\". I remember the chill tingling up my spine, I remember admiring the woman for not giving up. Strange thing is, I don't remember the moment when I realized that wasn't a last attempt at positivity, but a curse. She cursed my father, with me as the vessel.\n\nThe irony of it? I had argued relentlessly with my father about his part in those diabolical trials. I begged and pleased of him to step down, but apparently it had gone too far and if he did that, there would be questions as to why. It could risk our lives and open our family up for accusations. So he continued. Because of that... Here I am... still...\n\nI always like Margaret and would often sneak her some bread and cheese. She had been left destitute following the death of her husband. It's not like nowadays where there is some level of support in place, granted not the best, but so much better than it used to be 'back in the day'. That makes me sad. A person that I always found pleasant cursed me to this life.\n\nI was so distraught at my father's involvement in ther trials that I left that night, never to return to Salem until last year.  I don't know what brought me back.  I could barely fight it, so decided to 'go with the flow'... And here I am, living in the same house as I did back then.  Granted, it's changed now.  And the house has been split up into tiny apartments and by some coincidence I am in the part of the house that used to be my bedroom. \n\nMy inability to age must sound like a dream. But I can assure you it's not. Imagine being 16 forever. Not being old-looking enough to be an adult certainly makes it difficult to do much of anything - I can only ever get menial jobs, live in dodgy areas, because that's what I can afford with my wages. I can't stay in an area more than a few years because questions start to raise. After over 300 years of working I am exhausted and must have earned a nice pension many times over. I\u2019ve never been sick in the past \u2013 not even a cold. I wish for a terminal disease, surely cancer can beat me?  Maybe I need to find that glitch in the 'system'.... who knows...\n\nWith every war, every pandemic I have held onto the Hope that the end of the world is nigh. Unfortunately, us humans are a resilient bunch \u2013 we\u2019re not going anywhere any time soon.\n\nAs morbid as it is, I have a list on me of all female infants and young girls that have passed away in any area I live in, collected from cemeteries and obituaries so that I can steal their identities, their social security numbers and so forth. I feel dirty every time I do it, but if I can\u2019t die, I need to survive. \n\nNext on my list is a little baby girl, who died 16 years ago. Hope Elizabeth Scott\u2026. Happens to be my name, well apart from the surname...  A coincidence that she shares her surname with poor Margaret? Her whole family perished in a fire in my old neighbourhood in Salem. She fought for weeks in ICU, before passing. With her death, came the end of her family\u2019s linage.\n\nI\u2019ve been in touch with a questionable type who will get me all my paperwork in place. This time it feels different. Is it a coincidence? Or maybe this is my way out?\n\nMaybe Hope does die last after all...",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473119uvro",
    "summary": " A 315-year-old woman named Hope is cursed to live forever at the age of 16 after her father's involvement in the Salem Witch Trials. Unable to age or die, she has been living a lonely and difficult life, constantly moving and stealing the identities of deceased young girls. However, she may have found a way to end her eternal existence with the help of a recently deceased infant who shares her name. ",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nI've done everything I possibly can over the years. Sometimes just to survive, other times in the hope that it can all come to an end. Everything has been to no avail.\n\nHere I am.\n\nStill.\n\nI'm Hope and I'm 315 years old. I look no older than 16 though. Time has stopped for me, but keeps on passing by for all those around me. Over the years, I have been eaten up by jealously of those that get to grow up, to live their lives and most importantly die as was intended.\n\nI bet you think I'm a vampire, don't you? I wish... I could just step out into the sun to end it all, if that was the case. Maybe a silver bullet could be my way out. Death by Garlic bread would be actually quite an amazing way to go... but no. Not a vampire. My heart beats just like yours, I breathe just like you. My problem is that my father was one of the magistrates during the Salem Witch trials. He was one of those that were responsible for the last death sentences handed out.\n\nI remember being in the court room on that day. I remember Margaret Scott locking eyes with my father after they sentenced to death and saying \"Hope dies last\". I remember the chill tingling up my spine, I remember admiring the woman for not giving up. Strange thing is, I don't remember the moment when I realized that wasn't a last attempt at positivity, but a curse. She cursed my father, with me as the vessel.\n\nThe irony of it? I had argued relentlessly with my father about his part in those diabolical trials. I begged and pleased of him to step down, but apparently it had gone too far and if he did that, there would be questions as to why. It could risk our lives and open our family up for accusations. So he continued. Because of that... Here I am... still...\n\nI always like Margaret and would often sneak her some bread and cheese. She had been left destitute following the death of her husband. It's not like nowadays where there is some level of support in place, granted not the best, but so much better than it used to be 'back in the day'. That makes me sad. A person that I always found pleasant cursed me to this life.\n\nI was so distraught at my father's involvement in ther trials that I left that night, never to return to Salem until last year.  I don't know what brought me back.  I could barely fight it, so decided to 'go with the flow'... And here I am, living in the same house as I did back then.  Granted, it's changed now.  And the house has been split up into tiny apartments and by some coincidence I am in the part of the house that used to be my bedroom. \n\nMy inability to age must sound like a dream. But I can assure you it's not. Imagine being 16 forever. Not being old-looking enough to be an adult certainly makes it difficult to do much of anything - I can only ever get menial jobs, live in dodgy areas, because that's what I can afford with my wages. I can't stay in an area more than a few years because questions start to raise. After over 300 years of working I am exhausted and must have earned a nice pension many times over. I\u2019ve never been sick in the past \u2013 not even a cold. I wish for a terminal disease, surely cancer can beat me?  Maybe I need to find that glitch in the 'system'.... who knows...\n\nWith every war, every pandemic I have held onto the Hope that the end of the world is nigh. Unfortunately, us humans are a resilient bunch \u2013 we\u2019re not going anywhere any time soon.\n\nAs morbid as it is, I have a list on me of all female infants and young girls that have passed away in any area I live in, collected from cemeteries and obituaries so that I can steal their identities, their social security numbers and so forth. I feel dirty every time I do it, but if I can\u2019t die, I need to survive. \n\nNext on my list is a little baby girl, who died 16 years ago. Hope Elizabeth Scott\u2026. Happens to be my name, well apart from the surname...  A coincidence that she shares her surname with poor Margaret? Her whole family perished in a fire in my old neighbourhood in Salem. She fought for weeks in ICU, before passing. With her death, came the end of her family\u2019s linage.\n\nI\u2019ve been in touch with a questionable type who will get me all my paperwork in place. This time it feels different. Is it a coincidence? Or maybe this is my way out?\n\nMaybe Hope does die last after all...",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "79115223876469740492aryso",
    "summary": "The story follows Damian's journey of self-discovery and introspection on the so-called \"death train\". He finds himself on this train after a public disruption, caused by an issue with his ex-girlfriend, Alyssa. This train is home to people ready to die, psychopathic thrill-seekers and those who have disrupted societal norms by attempting suicide in public. Those on the train must repeatedly jump on a standing mat to avoid electrocution and imminent death. Damian faces the challenge of staying alive until reaching Tampa, to see Alyssa, whilst also avoiding the psychoactive solution provided by the warden. The story implies that staying alive on the train is a complex balance of staying sober, timing jumps perfectly, and avoiding the headmaster's attempts to prevent it from becoming a free tour.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Damian shook his head. How is it that he ended up here, on the death train? He wanted to tell himself it was all some big misunderstanding, but part of him knew it was more than that. But still - what a terrible place to find yourself. Sure, most were there voluntarily, those who were \"ready to go\" and didn't have the guts to do it themselves. There were of course a population of psychopathic thrill seekers, those who tried to time the jump off of the standing mat to prevent the electrocution but bring themselves intensely close to death. Then there were those who offended the public's sense of decency- the unsuccessful jumpers, those who threw themselves in front of cars and buses. Really anyone who tried to off themselves in public was taken to the train. You were, of course, welcome to botch as many suicides as you liked in the comfort of your own home, but do it in public by any means, and the train was where you went.\n\nAt least the train traveled through the country. Damien's ex, who admittedly was the cause of his public misunderstanding who landed him here, was in Tampa. If he could just make it there to see her one more time, he'd be fine going out. The trouble wouldn't be in timing the jumps, he'd heard enough stories about how so-and-so's friend lasted 18 stops by timing his jumps with the windup of the buzz, before the shock ripped through the metal plating. The problem, as Damien saw it, was that all of these stories ended the same way- a missed jump, and then the buzz. It made sense, it'd be nearly impossible to time those jumps while drugged by the warden. That would be Damien's biggest challenge. Even if Alyssa showed up at the Tampa station so he could see her face one last time, he'd have to make 24 jumps in complete sobriety, which meant going without food for at least two or three days before the stop. The death train was not an attraction to see the country for free, and it was rumored the headmaster bent the rules of the train from time to time to make sure it didn't become one.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "81670585335894792aryso",
    "summary": "In this story, Damian finds himself on the \"death train,\" a place where people who have attempted suicide in public or offended public decency are sent. The train is populated by various types of individuals, including those who voluntarily choose to end their lives, thrill-seekers who try to cheat death by timing their jumps off the standing mat to avoid electrocution, and those who have botched their suicide attempts in public.\n\nDamian's goal is to make it to Tampa to see his ex-girlfriend, Alyssa, one last time before he dies. However, the challenge lies in making 24 jumps off the train while completely sober, as the warden drugs the passengers' food. This means Damian must go without food for two to three days before the Tampa stop to ensure he can time his jumps correctly.\n\nThe story suggests that the death train is not meant to be a free way to see the country and that the headmaster may bend the rules to prevent it from becoming an attraction. Damian's journey on the death train is a grim and challenging one, with his ultimate fate left uncertain.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Damian shook his head. How is it that he ended up here, on the death train? He wanted to tell himself it was all some big misunderstanding, but part of him knew it was more than that. But still - what a terrible place to find yourself. Sure, most were there voluntarily, those who were \"ready to go\" and didn't have the guts to do it themselves. There were of course a population of psychopathic thrill seekers, those who tried to time the jump off of the standing mat to prevent the electrocution but bring themselves intensely close to death. Then there were those who offended the public's sense of decency- the unsuccessful jumpers, those who threw themselves in front of cars and buses. Really anyone who tried to off themselves in public was taken to the train. You were, of course, welcome to botch as many suicides as you liked in the comfort of your own home, but do it in public by any means, and the train was where you went.\n\nAt least the train traveled through the country. Damien's ex, who admittedly was the cause of his public misunderstanding who landed him here, was in Tampa. If he could just make it there to see her one more time, he'd be fine going out. The trouble wouldn't be in timing the jumps, he'd heard enough stories about how so-and-so's friend lasted 18 stops by timing his jumps with the windup of the buzz, before the shock ripped through the metal plating. The problem, as Damien saw it, was that all of these stories ended the same way- a missed jump, and then the buzz. It made sense, it'd be nearly impossible to time those jumps while drugged by the warden. That would be Damien's biggest challenge. Even if Alyssa showed up at the Tampa station so he could see her face one last time, he'd have to make 24 jumps in complete sobriety, which meant going without food for at least two or three days before the stop. The death train was not an attraction to see the country for free, and it was rumored the headmaster bent the rules of the train from time to time to make sure it didn't become one.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "73409150676328394732aryso",
    "summary": " The story is about Damian, who is on a train known as the death train, where people who have attempted suicide in public are taken. He wants to see his ex-girlfriend in Tampa before he dies, but it is difficult to time the jumps due to being under the influence of drugs. The train travels throughout the country and is not meant for sightseeing. The headmaster sometimes bends the rules to prevent the train from becoming an attraction.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Damian shook his head. How is it that he ended up here, on the death train? He wanted to tell himself it was all some big misunderstanding, but part of him knew it was more than that. But still - what a terrible place to find yourself. Sure, most were there voluntarily, those who were \"ready to go\" and didn't have the guts to do it themselves. There were of course a population of psychopathic thrill seekers, those who tried to time the jump off of the standing mat to prevent the electrocution but bring themselves intensely close to death. Then there were those who offended the public's sense of decency- the unsuccessful jumpers, those who threw themselves in front of cars and buses. Really anyone who tried to off themselves in public was taken to the train. You were, of course, welcome to botch as many suicides as you liked in the comfort of your own home, but do it in public by any means, and the train was where you went.\n\nAt least the train traveled through the country. Damien's ex, who admittedly was the cause of his public misunderstanding who landed him here, was in Tampa. If he could just make it there to see her one more time, he'd be fine going out. The trouble wouldn't be in timing the jumps, he'd heard enough stories about how so-and-so's friend lasted 18 stops by timing his jumps with the windup of the buzz, before the shock ripped through the metal plating. The problem, as Damien saw it, was that all of these stories ended the same way- a missed jump, and then the buzz. It made sense, it'd be nearly impossible to time those jumps while drugged by the warden. That would be Damien's biggest challenge. Even if Alyssa showed up at the Tampa station so he could see her face one last time, he'd have to make 24 jumps in complete sobriety, which meant going without food for at least two or three days before the stop. The death train was not an attraction to see the country for free, and it was rumored the headmaster bent the rules of the train from time to time to make sure it didn't become one.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049a94gm7",
    "summary": "The story is about the author's mother, who is now old and suffers from memory problems. This happened after an accident when she stepped off a sidewalk curb and shattered her shoulder, which led to her being diagnosed with osteoporosis. After this, her health degraded over the years and she became forgetful, even forgetting the birthdays of her children. The author, saddened and nostalgic, wanted to give her a meaningful gift for Christmas, and recalled her mother once speaking about how she used to love eating honeycombs as a child. The author goes on a two-day journey to separate bee farms to acquire jars of honey with combs in them. When he hints at the gift, asking his mother if she remembers eating honeycombs, she gives him a blank stare and denies having ever done so. They realize her memory is rapidly deteriorating.\n",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My mom is old. Her vibrance gone. Bones brittle. Hair gray. Eyes glazed over from cataracts. Her skin patchworked with blood spots. And it is not clich\u00e9 to say it happened overnight. Just three years ago she was getting a monthly pedicure and keeping hair appointments to cut and color her once brown hair. With her five children grown and gone, she never stayed home. From the time she woke until dinner time, she was outside roaming in her car visiting friends and shopping. She was alive and loving every minute of her new freedom that was formerly restricted from being a full-time nurse, a housewife, and a mother.\n\nThen the accident changed everything. Three years ago she stepped off a sidewalk curb and lost her balance. Her right shoulder completely shattered, and it was how she discovered she had osteoporosis.  The entire shoulder had to be replaced. The surgeon picked out pieces of splintered bones and put in a round metal ball to give her about sixty percent use of her shoulder again. She suffered through the year long process and fell again, this time breaking a bone in her back and knee.  For the last few years, her car has been supplanted with a recliner.\n\nThe last few Christmas holidays have obviously not been the same. This one, however, will probably be the last. A few months ago I started to notice the memory problems. I visit her weekly and since the Breaking of Bones I have been spending every Saturday morning and night with her by sleeping in my old childhood room. The severity of the memory problems became more noticeable every week I returned. \n\nFor the first time since I was born, my mom forgot my birthday. Birthdays are more important to no one other than a mother\u2014at least, my mother. Birthdays were an event celebrated in my parents\u2019 home more than Christmas. My birthday, my brother\u2019s birthday, and my father\u2019s birthday are all in December. My mom forgot all three. No phone calls. No cards. No cake. No celebrations. We did not remind her. We only spoke of it amongst ourselves briefly to mention that we noticed. Maybe it did not need to be broached. More than likely, we were so saddened about the Great Forgetting that none of us could bring ourselves to discuss it. \n\nLast Thursday, just four days before Christmas, my mother told me when she was a teenager that she would eat the honeycombs from real bee honey. She said it was her favorite thing to eat as a child. She and her two sisters would sit on the porch and put the comb on an English muffin or biscuits. She said she would not eat oatmeal unless she had honeycomb pieces to put in it. Sometimes she would just suck on the honeycomb before finally eating it by itself. She and her two sisters felt rich if they had it. \u201cHoneycomb was not easy to come by in those days,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t remember what it tasted like but it was the best kind of candy. I wish I could taste it again.\u201d\n\nIt is said that men have trouble listening to women.  I had no trouble listening to my mom. I knew what her Christmas gift was going to be this year. I got Mom six separate quarts of honey with combs in them. I had to go to three different bee apiaries in two different states to get them. I spent no fewer than two days tracking down and purchasing honeycomb. (Apparently it is not a popular request with bee farmers.) The price was costly but would be worth it. It would be the best gift I have ever given my mom. \n\nThis year will be doubly special for me because I know this will be my mom\u2019s last Christmas. Her memory problem is exacerbating too quickly. The differences are noticeable now almost daily. But I had a secret I could not tell her for two more days until Christmas morning. Why can it not be Christmas Day right now so I can give her this gift right now! This is going to be her best Christmas. I am certain of it. I am going to drop a hint about her gift like she used to do with me as a child a few days before Christmas. Yesterday, while I was sitting on Mom\u2019s couch with her across me in her recliner, I asked, \u201cMom, do you remember when you used to eat honeycombs on the porch with Pat and Dina?\u201d  She turned her head to face me with a blank stare. \n\n\u201cHoneycombs?\u201d She asked. \u201cWho told you that? No, I never ate honeycombs. Those things were gross.\u201d\n",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479a94gm7",
    "summary": "In this poignant story, the narrator reflects on their mother's rapid decline in health and memory over the past three years. Once vibrant and active, the mother's life changed dramatically after a series of accidents that revealed her osteoporosis. Confined to a recliner and struggling with memory issues, she forgot important birthdays, including the narrator's and their father's.\n\nOne day, the mother reminisced about her childhood, recalling how she and her sisters would enjoy eating honeycombs, a rare treat at the time. Inspired by this memory, the narrator went to great lengths to acquire six quarts of honey with combs as a special Christmas gift for their mother, knowing it might be her last Christmas.\n\nHowever, when the narrator tried to remind their mother about the honeycomb memory, she had no recollection of it and even found the idea unappealing. The story concludes on a bittersweet note, highlighting the impact of memory loss on the mother-child relationship and the narrator's efforts to bring joy to their mother during a difficult time.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My mom is old. Her vibrance gone. Bones brittle. Hair gray. Eyes glazed over from cataracts. Her skin patchworked with blood spots. And it is not clich\u00e9 to say it happened overnight. Just three years ago she was getting a monthly pedicure and keeping hair appointments to cut and color her once brown hair. With her five children grown and gone, she never stayed home. From the time she woke until dinner time, she was outside roaming in her car visiting friends and shopping. She was alive and loving every minute of her new freedom that was formerly restricted from being a full-time nurse, a housewife, and a mother.\n\nThen the accident changed everything. Three years ago she stepped off a sidewalk curb and lost her balance. Her right shoulder completely shattered, and it was how she discovered she had osteoporosis.  The entire shoulder had to be replaced. The surgeon picked out pieces of splintered bones and put in a round metal ball to give her about sixty percent use of her shoulder again. She suffered through the year long process and fell again, this time breaking a bone in her back and knee.  For the last few years, her car has been supplanted with a recliner.\n\nThe last few Christmas holidays have obviously not been the same. This one, however, will probably be the last. A few months ago I started to notice the memory problems. I visit her weekly and since the Breaking of Bones I have been spending every Saturday morning and night with her by sleeping in my old childhood room. The severity of the memory problems became more noticeable every week I returned. \n\nFor the first time since I was born, my mom forgot my birthday. Birthdays are more important to no one other than a mother\u2014at least, my mother. Birthdays were an event celebrated in my parents\u2019 home more than Christmas. My birthday, my brother\u2019s birthday, and my father\u2019s birthday are all in December. My mom forgot all three. No phone calls. No cards. No cake. No celebrations. We did not remind her. We only spoke of it amongst ourselves briefly to mention that we noticed. Maybe it did not need to be broached. More than likely, we were so saddened about the Great Forgetting that none of us could bring ourselves to discuss it. \n\nLast Thursday, just four days before Christmas, my mother told me when she was a teenager that she would eat the honeycombs from real bee honey. She said it was her favorite thing to eat as a child. She and her two sisters would sit on the porch and put the comb on an English muffin or biscuits. She said she would not eat oatmeal unless she had honeycomb pieces to put in it. Sometimes she would just suck on the honeycomb before finally eating it by itself. She and her two sisters felt rich if they had it. \u201cHoneycomb was not easy to come by in those days,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t remember what it tasted like but it was the best kind of candy. I wish I could taste it again.\u201d\n\nIt is said that men have trouble listening to women.  I had no trouble listening to my mom. I knew what her Christmas gift was going to be this year. I got Mom six separate quarts of honey with combs in them. I had to go to three different bee apiaries in two different states to get them. I spent no fewer than two days tracking down and purchasing honeycomb. (Apparently it is not a popular request with bee farmers.) The price was costly but would be worth it. It would be the best gift I have ever given my mom. \n\nThis year will be doubly special for me because I know this will be my mom\u2019s last Christmas. Her memory problem is exacerbating too quickly. The differences are noticeable now almost daily. But I had a secret I could not tell her for two more days until Christmas morning. Why can it not be Christmas Day right now so I can give her this gift right now! This is going to be her best Christmas. I am certain of it. I am going to drop a hint about her gift like she used to do with me as a child a few days before Christmas. Yesterday, while I was sitting on Mom\u2019s couch with her across me in her recliner, I asked, \u201cMom, do you remember when you used to eat honeycombs on the porch with Pat and Dina?\u201d  She turned her head to face me with a blank stare. \n\n\u201cHoneycombs?\u201d She asked. \u201cWho told you that? No, I never ate honeycombs. Those things were gross.\u201d\n",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473a94gm7",
    "summary": " A woman's mother has aged and suffered from multiple injuries, causing her to lose her independence and vibrant personality. As her memory problems worsen, her daughter plans to give her a special gift - honeycombs that she used to enjoy as a child but has forgotten about. This will be the mother's last Christmas, making the gift even more meaningful.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My mom is old. Her vibrance gone. Bones brittle. Hair gray. Eyes glazed over from cataracts. Her skin patchworked with blood spots. And it is not clich\u00e9 to say it happened overnight. Just three years ago she was getting a monthly pedicure and keeping hair appointments to cut and color her once brown hair. With her five children grown and gone, she never stayed home. From the time she woke until dinner time, she was outside roaming in her car visiting friends and shopping. She was alive and loving every minute of her new freedom that was formerly restricted from being a full-time nurse, a housewife, and a mother.\n\nThen the accident changed everything. Three years ago she stepped off a sidewalk curb and lost her balance. Her right shoulder completely shattered, and it was how she discovered she had osteoporosis.  The entire shoulder had to be replaced. The surgeon picked out pieces of splintered bones and put in a round metal ball to give her about sixty percent use of her shoulder again. She suffered through the year long process and fell again, this time breaking a bone in her back and knee.  For the last few years, her car has been supplanted with a recliner.\n\nThe last few Christmas holidays have obviously not been the same. This one, however, will probably be the last. A few months ago I started to notice the memory problems. I visit her weekly and since the Breaking of Bones I have been spending every Saturday morning and night with her by sleeping in my old childhood room. The severity of the memory problems became more noticeable every week I returned. \n\nFor the first time since I was born, my mom forgot my birthday. Birthdays are more important to no one other than a mother\u2014at least, my mother. Birthdays were an event celebrated in my parents\u2019 home more than Christmas. My birthday, my brother\u2019s birthday, and my father\u2019s birthday are all in December. My mom forgot all three. No phone calls. No cards. No cake. No celebrations. We did not remind her. We only spoke of it amongst ourselves briefly to mention that we noticed. Maybe it did not need to be broached. More than likely, we were so saddened about the Great Forgetting that none of us could bring ourselves to discuss it. \n\nLast Thursday, just four days before Christmas, my mother told me when she was a teenager that she would eat the honeycombs from real bee honey. She said it was her favorite thing to eat as a child. She and her two sisters would sit on the porch and put the comb on an English muffin or biscuits. She said she would not eat oatmeal unless she had honeycomb pieces to put in it. Sometimes she would just suck on the honeycomb before finally eating it by itself. She and her two sisters felt rich if they had it. \u201cHoneycomb was not easy to come by in those days,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t remember what it tasted like but it was the best kind of candy. I wish I could taste it again.\u201d\n\nIt is said that men have trouble listening to women.  I had no trouble listening to my mom. I knew what her Christmas gift was going to be this year. I got Mom six separate quarts of honey with combs in them. I had to go to three different bee apiaries in two different states to get them. I spent no fewer than two days tracking down and purchasing honeycomb. (Apparently it is not a popular request with bee farmers.) The price was costly but would be worth it. It would be the best gift I have ever given my mom. \n\nThis year will be doubly special for me because I know this will be my mom\u2019s last Christmas. Her memory problem is exacerbating too quickly. The differences are noticeable now almost daily. But I had a secret I could not tell her for two more days until Christmas morning. Why can it not be Christmas Day right now so I can give her this gift right now! This is going to be her best Christmas. I am certain of it. I am going to drop a hint about her gift like she used to do with me as a child a few days before Christmas. Yesterday, while I was sitting on Mom\u2019s couch with her across me in her recliner, I asked, \u201cMom, do you remember when you used to eat honeycombs on the porch with Pat and Dina?\u201d  She turned her head to face me with a blank stare. \n\n\u201cHoneycombs?\u201d She asked. \u201cWho told you that? No, I never ate honeycombs. Those things were gross.\u201d\n",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049eqx23f",
    "summary": "The storyteller shares a chilling childhood experience that occurred when he was 13 and spent most of his time playing video games in his parent's basement. The basement is described as \"L\" shaped, with the television and gaming console in the long part and a fridge around the back corner in the shorter part. One day while playing Halo with noise-cancelling headphones, he hears a loud noise from behind him and turns around to find a beer mug on the floor near the fridge. The mug was originally part of a display atop the fridge, featuring a neon sign and identical mugs on either side. He shrugs off this strange occurrence and continues his game. A week later, the same scenario repeats. The loud noise, the beer mug on the floor, a distance away from the fridge. This time he is terrified, turns off his game, and bolts upstairs, feeling a sense of being watched. The next day he investigates the scene and realizes that the dust layer atop the fridge is perfectly undisturbed where the mug sits, indicating it did not slide off, but was picked straight up and thrown. This realization sends the storyteller into horror, as he swears that on both occasions, he was the only one at home.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I shit you not, my skin is crawling just thinking about typing this to you all. I\u2019ve never told anyone what happened until now\n\nWhen I was 13 I used to play video games in my parents basement all the time. It was finished and heated. I spent more time down there than my room. I would describe my basement as having an \u201cL\u201d shape. I played video games with a tv at the far wall in the long main part and there was a fridge around the back corner in the shorter part (behind me while playing).\n\nOne day I\u2019m home alone after school playing Halo 3 with Turtle Beach headphones on. They are the type of headphones that play sound through them. So in other words, you really can\u2019t hear anything going on in the real world around you until you take them off. So I\u2019m playing and I hear this loud bang from behind me. Loud enough for me to hear through the game sounds. I immediately rip my headphones off and whip around to look behind me. I see nothing. I call out, \u201cMom?\u201d, to see if she\u2019s home. She wasn\u2019t. So I get up slowly, I\u2019m mildly confused, not scared at this point. I walk around the far corner to where the fridge is and I see this glass beer mug on the floor about 3 feet from the fridge. \n\nLet me paint this picture for you. On top of the fridge my dad had an organized display. There was a neon beer sign in the center with two identical decorative beer mugs symmetrically placed on each side of the sign. This display sits about 5 feet off the ground. \n\nWhen I turned the corner and saw the mug on the ground I got an eerie feeling that seemed to have no source. I thought; damn, how did that mug get so far away from the fridge, it must have bounced when it fell. I couldn\u2019t believe it didn\u2019t break. I hesitated for a brief moment simply confused, then picked up the mug and placed it back to the left side of the neon sign. I shrugged it off as weird and went back to my gaming.\n\nOne week later. \n\nI\u2019m again playing halo with turtle beach headphones on, loud as fuck. I\u2019m home alone after school. BANG! CLINK! CLINK! There was no question in my mind that it was the same noise I\u2019d heard the week prior. I ripped my headphones off. Chills ran from my head to my toes. I was petrified. I was scared to look behind me. I slowly turned around. I stared backwards into the darkness wide-eyed for what felt like minutes before I built the courage to investigate knowing I was home alone. My heart was pounding. I couldn\u2019t just sit there, I was trapped with my back against the wall, literally. I hesitantly and slowly crept towards the other end of the basement slowly rounding the corner, fearful of what I might see; my mind was racing. There it was, the same mug on the ground, but this time it was farther from the fridge, maybe 5 feet away. I was fucking terrified. I sprinted towards my tv, shut my game off and ran upstairs. As I bolted up the stairs two at a time, I couldn\u2019t help but feel something watching from behind me. I didn\u2019t go back down into the basement for the rest of the day.\n\nThe next morning I headed downstairs to play video games like usual, briefly forgetting what had happened the day before. I turned the lights on and saw the mug on the ground where It had been left yesterday. I thought, \u201cwhatever, there must be some explanation\u201d. So I grabbed the mug and walked over to the fridge to put it back. There was an additional overhead light in that area of the basement. I flicked in on so I could see better and investigate/try to find some explanation. I noticed that the top of the fridge was pretty level, so it wouldn\u2019t have slipped off by itself. And the mugs were placed in the center on the top, so it didn\u2019t make sense for it to have fallen on its own, like at all. Plus the other mug had never moved. Then I saw it... there was a perfect circular outline of where the mug had been sitting. The outline was formed by a thin, surrounding layer of evenly settled dust that covered the entire fridge top. The dust was everywhere except where the mug had been... it hadn\u2019t fallen... It hadn\u2019t slid off... It had been picked straight up and then thrown. \n\nAt that moment of realization, I felt chills like never before. The fear consumed my entire body. \n\nThis is all 100% true. On both occasions I was the only one home, trust me, I checked",
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479eqx23f",
    "summary": "In this story, a 13-year-old boy experiences a series of eerie events while playing video games in his parents' finished basement. On two separate occasions, a week apart, the boy hears a loud bang behind him while wearing noise-cancelling headphones. Each time, he discovers that a decorative beer mug from a display on top of the fridge has fallen to the floor, landing several feet away without breaking.\n\nThe first incident leaves the boy confused, but he shrugs it off and returns the mug to its original position. However, when the same thing happens a week later, the boy becomes terrified, feeling as if something is watching him from the darkness. He runs upstairs, unable to shake the feeling of being watched.\n\nThe next morning, the boy investigates the top of the fridge and notices that the fallen mug has left a perfect circular outline in the dust, suggesting that it had been picked up and thrown rather than simply falling or sliding off on its own. This realization fills the boy with an overwhelming sense of fear.\n\nThroughout the story, the boy emphasizes that he was home alone during both incidents, adding to the mysterious and unsettling nature of the events.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I shit you not, my skin is crawling just thinking about typing this to you all. I\u2019ve never told anyone what happened until now\n\nWhen I was 13 I used to play video games in my parents basement all the time. It was finished and heated. I spent more time down there than my room. I would describe my basement as having an \u201cL\u201d shape. I played video games with a tv at the far wall in the long main part and there was a fridge around the back corner in the shorter part (behind me while playing).\n\nOne day I\u2019m home alone after school playing Halo 3 with Turtle Beach headphones on. They are the type of headphones that play sound through them. So in other words, you really can\u2019t hear anything going on in the real world around you until you take them off. So I\u2019m playing and I hear this loud bang from behind me. Loud enough for me to hear through the game sounds. I immediately rip my headphones off and whip around to look behind me. I see nothing. I call out, \u201cMom?\u201d, to see if she\u2019s home. She wasn\u2019t. So I get up slowly, I\u2019m mildly confused, not scared at this point. I walk around the far corner to where the fridge is and I see this glass beer mug on the floor about 3 feet from the fridge. \n\nLet me paint this picture for you. On top of the fridge my dad had an organized display. There was a neon beer sign in the center with two identical decorative beer mugs symmetrically placed on each side of the sign. This display sits about 5 feet off the ground. \n\nWhen I turned the corner and saw the mug on the ground I got an eerie feeling that seemed to have no source. I thought; damn, how did that mug get so far away from the fridge, it must have bounced when it fell. I couldn\u2019t believe it didn\u2019t break. I hesitated for a brief moment simply confused, then picked up the mug and placed it back to the left side of the neon sign. I shrugged it off as weird and went back to my gaming.\n\nOne week later. \n\nI\u2019m again playing halo with turtle beach headphones on, loud as fuck. I\u2019m home alone after school. BANG! CLINK! CLINK! There was no question in my mind that it was the same noise I\u2019d heard the week prior. I ripped my headphones off. Chills ran from my head to my toes. I was petrified. I was scared to look behind me. I slowly turned around. I stared backwards into the darkness wide-eyed for what felt like minutes before I built the courage to investigate knowing I was home alone. My heart was pounding. I couldn\u2019t just sit there, I was trapped with my back against the wall, literally. I hesitantly and slowly crept towards the other end of the basement slowly rounding the corner, fearful of what I might see; my mind was racing. There it was, the same mug on the ground, but this time it was farther from the fridge, maybe 5 feet away. I was fucking terrified. I sprinted towards my tv, shut my game off and ran upstairs. As I bolted up the stairs two at a time, I couldn\u2019t help but feel something watching from behind me. I didn\u2019t go back down into the basement for the rest of the day.\n\nThe next morning I headed downstairs to play video games like usual, briefly forgetting what had happened the day before. I turned the lights on and saw the mug on the ground where It had been left yesterday. I thought, \u201cwhatever, there must be some explanation\u201d. So I grabbed the mug and walked over to the fridge to put it back. There was an additional overhead light in that area of the basement. I flicked in on so I could see better and investigate/try to find some explanation. I noticed that the top of the fridge was pretty level, so it wouldn\u2019t have slipped off by itself. And the mugs were placed in the center on the top, so it didn\u2019t make sense for it to have fallen on its own, like at all. Plus the other mug had never moved. Then I saw it... there was a perfect circular outline of where the mug had been sitting. The outline was formed by a thin, surrounding layer of evenly settled dust that covered the entire fridge top. The dust was everywhere except where the mug had been... it hadn\u2019t fallen... It hadn\u2019t slid off... It had been picked straight up and then thrown. \n\nAt that moment of realization, I felt chills like never before. The fear consumed my entire body. \n\nThis is all 100% true. On both occasions I was the only one home, trust me, I checked",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473eqx23f",
    "summary": "\n\nThe narrator, who was 13 at the time, was playing video games in their parents' basement when they heard a loud bang behind them. They turned around and found a beer mug on the ground, which had been part of a display on top of the fridge. A week later, the same thing happened again, and the mug was found even farther away from the fridge. The narrator became terrified and didn't go back into the basement for the rest of the day. The next day, they investigated and found that the dust on top of the fridge had been disturbed in a circular pattern, as if the mug had been picked up and thrown. The narrator was alone both times and could not find a rational explanation for what happened. ",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I shit you not, my skin is crawling just thinking about typing this to you all. I\u2019ve never told anyone what happened until now\n\nWhen I was 13 I used to play video games in my parents basement all the time. It was finished and heated. I spent more time down there than my room. I would describe my basement as having an \u201cL\u201d shape. I played video games with a tv at the far wall in the long main part and there was a fridge around the back corner in the shorter part (behind me while playing).\n\nOne day I\u2019m home alone after school playing Halo 3 with Turtle Beach headphones on. They are the type of headphones that play sound through them. So in other words, you really can\u2019t hear anything going on in the real world around you until you take them off. So I\u2019m playing and I hear this loud bang from behind me. Loud enough for me to hear through the game sounds. I immediately rip my headphones off and whip around to look behind me. I see nothing. I call out, \u201cMom?\u201d, to see if she\u2019s home. She wasn\u2019t. So I get up slowly, I\u2019m mildly confused, not scared at this point. I walk around the far corner to where the fridge is and I see this glass beer mug on the floor about 3 feet from the fridge. \n\nLet me paint this picture for you. On top of the fridge my dad had an organized display. There was a neon beer sign in the center with two identical decorative beer mugs symmetrically placed on each side of the sign. This display sits about 5 feet off the ground. \n\nWhen I turned the corner and saw the mug on the ground I got an eerie feeling that seemed to have no source. I thought; damn, how did that mug get so far away from the fridge, it must have bounced when it fell. I couldn\u2019t believe it didn\u2019t break. I hesitated for a brief moment simply confused, then picked up the mug and placed it back to the left side of the neon sign. I shrugged it off as weird and went back to my gaming.\n\nOne week later. \n\nI\u2019m again playing halo with turtle beach headphones on, loud as fuck. I\u2019m home alone after school. BANG! CLINK! CLINK! There was no question in my mind that it was the same noise I\u2019d heard the week prior. I ripped my headphones off. Chills ran from my head to my toes. I was petrified. I was scared to look behind me. I slowly turned around. I stared backwards into the darkness wide-eyed for what felt like minutes before I built the courage to investigate knowing I was home alone. My heart was pounding. I couldn\u2019t just sit there, I was trapped with my back against the wall, literally. I hesitantly and slowly crept towards the other end of the basement slowly rounding the corner, fearful of what I might see; my mind was racing. There it was, the same mug on the ground, but this time it was farther from the fridge, maybe 5 feet away. I was fucking terrified. I sprinted towards my tv, shut my game off and ran upstairs. As I bolted up the stairs two at a time, I couldn\u2019t help but feel something watching from behind me. I didn\u2019t go back down into the basement for the rest of the day.\n\nThe next morning I headed downstairs to play video games like usual, briefly forgetting what had happened the day before. I turned the lights on and saw the mug on the ground where It had been left yesterday. I thought, \u201cwhatever, there must be some explanation\u201d. So I grabbed the mug and walked over to the fridge to put it back. There was an additional overhead light in that area of the basement. I flicked in on so I could see better and investigate/try to find some explanation. I noticed that the top of the fridge was pretty level, so it wouldn\u2019t have slipped off by itself. And the mugs were placed in the center on the top, so it didn\u2019t make sense for it to have fallen on its own, like at all. Plus the other mug had never moved. Then I saw it... there was a perfect circular outline of where the mug had been sitting. The outline was formed by a thin, surrounding layer of evenly settled dust that covered the entire fridge top. The dust was everywhere except where the mug had been... it hadn\u2019t fallen... It hadn\u2019t slid off... It had been picked straight up and then thrown. \n\nAt that moment of realization, I felt chills like never before. The fear consumed my entire body. \n\nThis is all 100% true. On both occasions I was the only one home, trust me, I checked",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049g1cebe",
    "summary": "The narrator has the ability to see and hear ghosts, which was fun as a child but becomes torturous later in life. After witnessing a heart-wrenching scenario with a ghost and a stray dog, he checks himself into an hospital/asylum for some solace. The hospital appears serene with friendly nurses and patients, and the narrator feels peaceful. After several days, he is awakened by a police officer who informs him that the hospital has been closed for years. The story ends with the narrator's silence being shattered.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " They can\u2019t rest, so they won\u2019t let me rest. They\u2019re everywhere I am, their voices echoing against my skull.\n\nYou might think it\u2019s a gift, but in reality, being able to see and hear the dead is nothing but a curse. I can do nothing for them, not one shred of solace I can offer while their voices pound away in my brain.\n\nWhen I was younger, I thought it was fun. Like a game that only I could play. Watching their ghostly wanderings, chasing the smallest ones through the garden of my childhood home. They have always seemed more real to me that even my own family. But now, the game has become dark and twisted.\n\nOne day, I was walking down the street when I heard the most gut-wrenching screams I\u2019d ever borne witness to. Looking around, I quickly located the source: the shadow of an old man standing next to park bench. A mangy stray dog was curled up on the rough planks of wood, shivering in the chilly air. The ghost reached out to it futilely, empty tears streaming down his face as he failed to comfort his lost friend.\n\nI couldn\u2019t take it anymore. There was a place I walked past often that called out to me. It was a hospital. Or rather, an asylum. I would occasionally see patients sitting outside with beautiful nurses, everyone looking peaceful and serene. The perfect place for someone like me.\n\nI stepped through the front door and up to the front desk. A lovely woman with ebony skin and a heart-shaped face smiled from behind stacks of papers.\n\n\u201cHello,\u201d she greeted me warmly. \u201cHow can I help you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI need to check myself in,\u201d I replied. I expected her to ask questions, but she simply guided me to an empty room. As the door closed behind me, I quickly fell asleep, truly alone for the first time inside the mint green walls.\n\nWhen I finally woke, pulling myself out of a slumber deeper than hell itself, it was time for me to meet the doctor who would hopefully have the answers I needed. A nurse with hair the color of turmeric and a spray of freckles across her nose came to my room and led me to a dark office. I followed closely behind her and watched her feet as they moved, almost seeming to dance across the tile floor.\n\nInside the office, a woman in a white coat waited on the couch, her eyes shining like jade fire in the dim light. She gestured for me to sit next to her, patting the sofa with\u00a0 her long, graceful fingers. I sat easily, feeling nothing but peace in her presence.\n\n\u201cI understand you admitted yourself to the hospital,\u201d she said, her voice humming like the strings of a lute. \u201cWhy?\u201d She tilted her head to the side as she waited for my response.\n\n\u201cI see ghosts,\u201d I said, the words slipping from my lips without thought or hesitation. I dropped my head into my hands. \u201cI just want them to leave me alone so I can rest.\u201d\n\nAs gleaming tears began to form in my eyes, the doctor leaned forward and placed her soft hand on mine.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d she said with a gentle smile. \u201cI'll keep the ghosts from bothering you.\u201d\n\nDays went by in a haze. Sometimes I walked outside among the weeping willow trees, accompanied by a nurse with rubina lips or gleaming almond eyes. Sometimes I talked quietly with the other patients; the ones who were willing, that is. Some of them are just so, so angry, and they always seem afraid to come near me. I sighed with relief every time their sharp eyes turned away from me.\n\nSome days, I looked out my window and saw them on the other side of the fence. There are so many of them, and they all feel so deeply. I can see their lips move, speaking their lonesome words, but inside those walls, there was only beautiful silence.\n\nMost days, I sleep. I have a lifetime of rest to catch up on.\n\nBut now, from somewhere just outside the wispy fog of sleep, I feel someone shaking me, voices talking and shattering the blissful silence.\n\n\u201cWake up,\u201d a stern voice says.\n\nI barely have the energy to mumble, \u201cI\u2019m just trying to rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here,\u201d he says angrily.\n\nI blink open my eyes slowly, taking in the shining gold police badge pinned to his shirt.\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m a patient here,\u201d I say, rubbing the sandman's dust from my tired eyes.\n\nThe officer shakes his head in pity. \u201cYou can\u2019t be a patient here,\u201d he says roughly. \u201cThis hospital\u2019s been closed for years.\u201d\n\nThe silence explodes, and I twist in the air as I fall.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479g1cebe",
    "summary": "In this haunting story, the narrator is a person who has the ability to see and hear ghosts, which they initially enjoyed as a child but now find to be a curse. The ghosts constantly haunt the narrator, preventing them from finding peace and rest. One day, after witnessing a particularly distressing scene involving a ghost and a stray dog, the narrator decides to check themselves into an asylum in hopes of finding solace.\n\nAt the asylum, the narrator is greeted by a caring staff and a gentle doctor who promises to keep the ghosts at bay. The narrator spends their days in a peaceful haze, occasionally interacting with other patients and enjoying the silence within the walls of the asylum, despite the presence of numerous ghosts outside the fence.\n\nHowever, the story takes a chilling turn when the narrator is awakened by a police officer who informs them that the hospital has been closed for years. This revelation shatters the narrator's illusion of peace, leaving them falling through the air as the silence around them is shattered. The ending suggests that the narrator's experiences at the asylum were either a delusion or a supernatural occurrence, leaving the reader to ponder the true nature of the narrator's reality.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " They can\u2019t rest, so they won\u2019t let me rest. They\u2019re everywhere I am, their voices echoing against my skull.\n\nYou might think it\u2019s a gift, but in reality, being able to see and hear the dead is nothing but a curse. I can do nothing for them, not one shred of solace I can offer while their voices pound away in my brain.\n\nWhen I was younger, I thought it was fun. Like a game that only I could play. Watching their ghostly wanderings, chasing the smallest ones through the garden of my childhood home. They have always seemed more real to me that even my own family. But now, the game has become dark and twisted.\n\nOne day, I was walking down the street when I heard the most gut-wrenching screams I\u2019d ever borne witness to. Looking around, I quickly located the source: the shadow of an old man standing next to park bench. A mangy stray dog was curled up on the rough planks of wood, shivering in the chilly air. The ghost reached out to it futilely, empty tears streaming down his face as he failed to comfort his lost friend.\n\nI couldn\u2019t take it anymore. There was a place I walked past often that called out to me. It was a hospital. Or rather, an asylum. I would occasionally see patients sitting outside with beautiful nurses, everyone looking peaceful and serene. The perfect place for someone like me.\n\nI stepped through the front door and up to the front desk. A lovely woman with ebony skin and a heart-shaped face smiled from behind stacks of papers.\n\n\u201cHello,\u201d she greeted me warmly. \u201cHow can I help you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI need to check myself in,\u201d I replied. I expected her to ask questions, but she simply guided me to an empty room. As the door closed behind me, I quickly fell asleep, truly alone for the first time inside the mint green walls.\n\nWhen I finally woke, pulling myself out of a slumber deeper than hell itself, it was time for me to meet the doctor who would hopefully have the answers I needed. A nurse with hair the color of turmeric and a spray of freckles across her nose came to my room and led me to a dark office. I followed closely behind her and watched her feet as they moved, almost seeming to dance across the tile floor.\n\nInside the office, a woman in a white coat waited on the couch, her eyes shining like jade fire in the dim light. She gestured for me to sit next to her, patting the sofa with\u00a0 her long, graceful fingers. I sat easily, feeling nothing but peace in her presence.\n\n\u201cI understand you admitted yourself to the hospital,\u201d she said, her voice humming like the strings of a lute. \u201cWhy?\u201d She tilted her head to the side as she waited for my response.\n\n\u201cI see ghosts,\u201d I said, the words slipping from my lips without thought or hesitation. I dropped my head into my hands. \u201cI just want them to leave me alone so I can rest.\u201d\n\nAs gleaming tears began to form in my eyes, the doctor leaned forward and placed her soft hand on mine.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d she said with a gentle smile. \u201cI'll keep the ghosts from bothering you.\u201d\n\nDays went by in a haze. Sometimes I walked outside among the weeping willow trees, accompanied by a nurse with rubina lips or gleaming almond eyes. Sometimes I talked quietly with the other patients; the ones who were willing, that is. Some of them are just so, so angry, and they always seem afraid to come near me. I sighed with relief every time their sharp eyes turned away from me.\n\nSome days, I looked out my window and saw them on the other side of the fence. There are so many of them, and they all feel so deeply. I can see their lips move, speaking their lonesome words, but inside those walls, there was only beautiful silence.\n\nMost days, I sleep. I have a lifetime of rest to catch up on.\n\nBut now, from somewhere just outside the wispy fog of sleep, I feel someone shaking me, voices talking and shattering the blissful silence.\n\n\u201cWake up,\u201d a stern voice says.\n\nI barely have the energy to mumble, \u201cI\u2019m just trying to rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here,\u201d he says angrily.\n\nI blink open my eyes slowly, taking in the shining gold police badge pinned to his shirt.\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m a patient here,\u201d I say, rubbing the sandman's dust from my tired eyes.\n\nThe officer shakes his head in pity. \u201cYou can\u2019t be a patient here,\u201d he says roughly. \u201cThis hospital\u2019s been closed for years.\u201d\n\nThe silence explodes, and I twist in the air as I fall.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473g1cebe",
    "summary": " The protagonist, who can see and hear ghosts, checks into an asylum in an attempt to escape their constant presence. With the help of a kind doctor, they find peace and rest. However, when they wake up, they are told that the asylum has been closed for years, leaving their current state of peacefulness a mystery.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": " They can\u2019t rest, so they won\u2019t let me rest. They\u2019re everywhere I am, their voices echoing against my skull.\n\nYou might think it\u2019s a gift, but in reality, being able to see and hear the dead is nothing but a curse. I can do nothing for them, not one shred of solace I can offer while their voices pound away in my brain.\n\nWhen I was younger, I thought it was fun. Like a game that only I could play. Watching their ghostly wanderings, chasing the smallest ones through the garden of my childhood home. They have always seemed more real to me that even my own family. But now, the game has become dark and twisted.\n\nOne day, I was walking down the street when I heard the most gut-wrenching screams I\u2019d ever borne witness to. Looking around, I quickly located the source: the shadow of an old man standing next to park bench. A mangy stray dog was curled up on the rough planks of wood, shivering in the chilly air. The ghost reached out to it futilely, empty tears streaming down his face as he failed to comfort his lost friend.\n\nI couldn\u2019t take it anymore. There was a place I walked past often that called out to me. It was a hospital. Or rather, an asylum. I would occasionally see patients sitting outside with beautiful nurses, everyone looking peaceful and serene. The perfect place for someone like me.\n\nI stepped through the front door and up to the front desk. A lovely woman with ebony skin and a heart-shaped face smiled from behind stacks of papers.\n\n\u201cHello,\u201d she greeted me warmly. \u201cHow can I help you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI need to check myself in,\u201d I replied. I expected her to ask questions, but she simply guided me to an empty room. As the door closed behind me, I quickly fell asleep, truly alone for the first time inside the mint green walls.\n\nWhen I finally woke, pulling myself out of a slumber deeper than hell itself, it was time for me to meet the doctor who would hopefully have the answers I needed. A nurse with hair the color of turmeric and a spray of freckles across her nose came to my room and led me to a dark office. I followed closely behind her and watched her feet as they moved, almost seeming to dance across the tile floor.\n\nInside the office, a woman in a white coat waited on the couch, her eyes shining like jade fire in the dim light. She gestured for me to sit next to her, patting the sofa with\u00a0 her long, graceful fingers. I sat easily, feeling nothing but peace in her presence.\n\n\u201cI understand you admitted yourself to the hospital,\u201d she said, her voice humming like the strings of a lute. \u201cWhy?\u201d She tilted her head to the side as she waited for my response.\n\n\u201cI see ghosts,\u201d I said, the words slipping from my lips without thought or hesitation. I dropped my head into my hands. \u201cI just want them to leave me alone so I can rest.\u201d\n\nAs gleaming tears began to form in my eyes, the doctor leaned forward and placed her soft hand on mine.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d she said with a gentle smile. \u201cI'll keep the ghosts from bothering you.\u201d\n\nDays went by in a haze. Sometimes I walked outside among the weeping willow trees, accompanied by a nurse with rubina lips or gleaming almond eyes. Sometimes I talked quietly with the other patients; the ones who were willing, that is. Some of them are just so, so angry, and they always seem afraid to come near me. I sighed with relief every time their sharp eyes turned away from me.\n\nSome days, I looked out my window and saw them on the other side of the fence. There are so many of them, and they all feel so deeply. I can see their lips move, speaking their lonesome words, but inside those walls, there was only beautiful silence.\n\nMost days, I sleep. I have a lifetime of rest to catch up on.\n\nBut now, from somewhere just outside the wispy fog of sleep, I feel someone shaking me, voices talking and shattering the blissful silence.\n\n\u201cWake up,\u201d a stern voice says.\n\nI barely have the energy to mumble, \u201cI\u2019m just trying to rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here,\u201d he says angrily.\n\nI blink open my eyes slowly, taking in the shining gold police badge pinned to his shirt.\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m a patient here,\u201d I say, rubbing the sandman's dust from my tired eyes.\n\nThe officer shakes his head in pity. \u201cYou can\u2019t be a patient here,\u201d he says roughly. \u201cThis hospital\u2019s been closed for years.\u201d\n\nThe silence explodes, and I twist in the air as I fall.",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049i6ry99",
    "summary": "The protagonist, who is usually agitated by loud sounds, experiences an unusually strong reaction to noise while staying at a cousin's house in the forest. Their reaction to noise escalates from annoyance to uncontrollable aggression, leading them to kill a loud bird outside in a sudden fit of rage. Later, when their cousin yells at them for ripping a ringing telephone out of the wall, the protagonist impulsively kills their cousin. They note a disturbing sense of satisfaction and naturalness in their violent acts.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I've always had good hearing but that day, not only was I hearing very well, I was agitated by what I was hearing, no matter what it was. If it was even louder than normal speaking voice, I would get super flustered. My cousin, who I had been staying with noticed but didn't think anything of it. He hardly thought anything of anything I did...It didn't concern me too much until a particularly large bird started squawking outside while my window was open. My cousin's house is in a forest and this type of thing was common, but that day I couldn't handle it. I covered my ears as the bird continued squawking.  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI pressed on my ears harder as the bird continued it's infernal squawking.  \n***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!***  \nI couldn't take it any longer. At an inhuman speed, I jumped out of my window and ran up to the infernal bird. It squawked loud as I caught it's tail feathers, which didn't help it.I killed it. With my hands. I squeezed it really tight around the stomach with my left hand and pulled out it's tail feather with my right so it couldn't run away. It continued to sqwauk, making me even angrier. ***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!*** Eventually I crushed it's bones and it fell dead in my hands. I made a half-hearted attempt to dispose of it, taking it a little ways into the woods, but that's all I did other than washing my arms off(after maybe licking my palms a bit). The weird thing is...I wasn't scared. I was a little surprised at myself, but I wasn't scared. It just felt so...*natural* when I killed that bird. I hadn't really been into horror and gore before, but I hadn't really been squeamish about it, just no strong feelings at all. But killing that bird...just felt right.\n\nA few hours later I was sitting at the table with my cousin everything was fine until the kitchen phone went off. I *lost it.* I practically tore it out of the wall. \"Sarah, what the hell?!\" He yelled. Yelled. He yelled a lot, but that day was different. \"Loud noise...\" I growled. \"The phone rings every damn day! What is wrong with you?!\" He yelled even louder. *Loud Noise...*  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI had been sick of him for a long time, but I had never had a way to get revenge. He continued yelling, but his yells became screams when I jumped over the table and  pounced on him.\nSure, killing that bird felt good...but it felt even more natural to rip my cousin's throat out.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479i6ry99",
    "summary": "In this disturbing story, the narrator is staying with their cousin in a house located in a forest. The narrator becomes increasingly agitated by loud noises, particularly a squawking bird outside their window. Unable to control their anger, the narrator jumps out of the window, catches the bird, and kills it with their bare hands. Despite the gruesome act, the narrator feels no fear or remorse, instead finding the experience natural and even enjoyable.\n\nLater, while sitting at the table with their cousin, the narrator becomes enraged when the kitchen phone rings. The cousin yells at the narrator for their unusual behavior, further angering them. The narrator, who had been harboring resentment towards their cousin for a long time, pounces on him and rips his throat out, finding the act even more satisfying than killing the bird.\n\nThe story explores themes of heightened sensory sensitivity, uncontrollable rage, and a disturbing lack of empathy or remorse. It also suggests that the narrator may have underlying psychological issues or supernatural tendencies that lead to their violent behavior.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I've always had good hearing but that day, not only was I hearing very well, I was agitated by what I was hearing, no matter what it was. If it was even louder than normal speaking voice, I would get super flustered. My cousin, who I had been staying with noticed but didn't think anything of it. He hardly thought anything of anything I did...It didn't concern me too much until a particularly large bird started squawking outside while my window was open. My cousin's house is in a forest and this type of thing was common, but that day I couldn't handle it. I covered my ears as the bird continued squawking.  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI pressed on my ears harder as the bird continued it's infernal squawking.  \n***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!***  \nI couldn't take it any longer. At an inhuman speed, I jumped out of my window and ran up to the infernal bird. It squawked loud as I caught it's tail feathers, which didn't help it.I killed it. With my hands. I squeezed it really tight around the stomach with my left hand and pulled out it's tail feather with my right so it couldn't run away. It continued to sqwauk, making me even angrier. ***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!*** Eventually I crushed it's bones and it fell dead in my hands. I made a half-hearted attempt to dispose of it, taking it a little ways into the woods, but that's all I did other than washing my arms off(after maybe licking my palms a bit). The weird thing is...I wasn't scared. I was a little surprised at myself, but I wasn't scared. It just felt so...*natural* when I killed that bird. I hadn't really been into horror and gore before, but I hadn't really been squeamish about it, just no strong feelings at all. But killing that bird...just felt right.\n\nA few hours later I was sitting at the table with my cousin everything was fine until the kitchen phone went off. I *lost it.* I practically tore it out of the wall. \"Sarah, what the hell?!\" He yelled. Yelled. He yelled a lot, but that day was different. \"Loud noise...\" I growled. \"The phone rings every damn day! What is wrong with you?!\" He yelled even louder. *Loud Noise...*  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI had been sick of him for a long time, but I had never had a way to get revenge. He continued yelling, but his yells became screams when I jumped over the table and  pounced on him.\nSure, killing that bird felt good...but it felt even more natural to rip my cousin's throat out.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473i6ry99",
    "summary": " One day, the narrator experiences heightened hearing and becomes agitated by loud noises. They become violent and kill a bird that is making noise outside. Later, when their cousin yells at them, they also attack and kill their cousin, feeling natural and satisfying about it.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "I've always had good hearing but that day, not only was I hearing very well, I was agitated by what I was hearing, no matter what it was. If it was even louder than normal speaking voice, I would get super flustered. My cousin, who I had been staying with noticed but didn't think anything of it. He hardly thought anything of anything I did...It didn't concern me too much until a particularly large bird started squawking outside while my window was open. My cousin's house is in a forest and this type of thing was common, but that day I couldn't handle it. I covered my ears as the bird continued squawking.  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI pressed on my ears harder as the bird continued it's infernal squawking.  \n***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!***  \nI couldn't take it any longer. At an inhuman speed, I jumped out of my window and ran up to the infernal bird. It squawked loud as I caught it's tail feathers, which didn't help it.I killed it. With my hands. I squeezed it really tight around the stomach with my left hand and pulled out it's tail feather with my right so it couldn't run away. It continued to sqwauk, making me even angrier. ***NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!*** Eventually I crushed it's bones and it fell dead in my hands. I made a half-hearted attempt to dispose of it, taking it a little ways into the woods, but that's all I did other than washing my arms off(after maybe licking my palms a bit). The weird thing is...I wasn't scared. I was a little surprised at myself, but I wasn't scared. It just felt so...*natural* when I killed that bird. I hadn't really been into horror and gore before, but I hadn't really been squeamish about it, just no strong feelings at all. But killing that bird...just felt right.\n\nA few hours later I was sitting at the table with my cousin everything was fine until the kitchen phone went off. I *lost it.* I practically tore it out of the wall. \"Sarah, what the hell?!\" He yelled. Yelled. He yelled a lot, but that day was different. \"Loud noise...\" I growled. \"The phone rings every damn day! What is wrong with you?!\" He yelled even louder. *Loud Noise...*  \n***Noise, noise, noise!***  \nI had been sick of him for a long time, but I had never had a way to get revenge. He continued yelling, but his yells became screams when I jumped over the table and  pounced on him.\nSure, killing that bird felt good...but it felt even more natural to rip my cousin's throat out.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049i9mo1w",
    "summary": "The protagonist and his twin brother Lance have always had an uneasy feeling about their aunt's house. They perceive her as creepy and feel she always hides something. One night, when the twins are ten years old, they observe their aunt taking food into the locked basement, which is off-limits. When they are fourteen, the boys play a knocking game with the basement door and hear a responding knock from within. Driven by curiosity and fear, Lance picks the lock and they descend into the basement with flashlights. They discover a seventeen-year-old girl who bears a striking resemblance to them both. Though they don't know why she's in the basement, the protagonist immediately recognizes the girl to be their cousin.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My twin brother Lance and I never really liked our aunt's house. She always seemed so creepy there, like she was hiding something. She also looked a little creepy and had some features I know she hadn't been born with. She almost looked like a mother, despite having no children and never having any or even a husband or boyfriend at all.  I mentioned it to our dad when we were about eight, but he said it was nothing to worry about.But it seemed like he was lying.Once when I was ten I saw my aunt take a small amount of food and some water into the basement late at night, which was strictly off limits to me and my brother, though it was never said aloud. It was locked at all times. *\"Why would she eat it in there?\"* I thought. I shared it with Lance but no one else. When we were fourteen, Lance and I went to the basement door late at night, when our parents and aunt were out. We were supposed to be asleep and they had taken our phones and the tv remotes with them, so we decided to play a game with the door, which the material was good for. One of us would do a pattern of knocking and the other would try to match it. Lame, but we figured we couldn't get any more bored than we already were, and we still didn't want to go to sleep. After about a minute of playing, something happened. Before I could answer lance's knock,someone else did.It had come from the basement, though further down, not at the door. But we could hear it clearly. \"Okay, that is it!\" Lance said, removing the pin that keeps his bangs out of his face. \"What do you mean?!\" I asked. He pushed me out of the way and started to pick the lock. \"We can't wait for mom and dad to get back, I'm unlocking this door NOW!\" He said.  \nWe were down in the basement with our flashlights, looking to see who had knocked back. We were both scared and determined. Then my flashlight turn on something that terrified me.\n\nShe looked about seventeen, and so much like me and Lance. She had long hair that almost touched the floor and slightly obscured her face, and it was black like mine and Lance's. She had the same pale skin as us and the same light smattering of dark freckles as us. Her clothes looked like she hadn't had new ones since ten. She looked so scared but relived to see us at the same time. She looked so much like my aunt. I didn't learn until later why she was put down there, but I already knew one thing in that moment.\n\nThis was my cousin.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "8167058533589479i9mo1w",
    "summary": "In this story, the narrator and their twin brother, Lance, have always found their aunt's house creepy. The aunt herself seems to have some unusual features and looks almost like a mother despite not having children. When the narrator was ten, they saw their aunt taking food and water into the locked basement, which was off-limits to the children.\n\nAt age fourteen, while their parents and aunt were out, the twins decided to play a knocking game at the basement door to pass the time. Suddenly, someone knocked back from within the basement. Determined to find out who was there, Lance picked the lock, and they entered the basement with flashlights.\n\nIn the basement, they discovered a seventeen-year-old girl who bore a striking resemblance to the twins and their aunt. She had long black hair, pale skin, and dark freckles, just like the twins. Her clothes appeared old, as if she hadn't had new ones since she was ten. The girl seemed both scared and relieved to see them.\n\nAlthough the narrator didn't learn the reason for the girl's confinement in the basement until later, they immediately realized that this girl was their cousin.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My twin brother Lance and I never really liked our aunt's house. She always seemed so creepy there, like she was hiding something. She also looked a little creepy and had some features I know she hadn't been born with. She almost looked like a mother, despite having no children and never having any or even a husband or boyfriend at all.  I mentioned it to our dad when we were about eight, but he said it was nothing to worry about.But it seemed like he was lying.Once when I was ten I saw my aunt take a small amount of food and some water into the basement late at night, which was strictly off limits to me and my brother, though it was never said aloud. It was locked at all times. *\"Why would she eat it in there?\"* I thought. I shared it with Lance but no one else. When we were fourteen, Lance and I went to the basement door late at night, when our parents and aunt were out. We were supposed to be asleep and they had taken our phones and the tv remotes with them, so we decided to play a game with the door, which the material was good for. One of us would do a pattern of knocking and the other would try to match it. Lame, but we figured we couldn't get any more bored than we already were, and we still didn't want to go to sleep. After about a minute of playing, something happened. Before I could answer lance's knock,someone else did.It had come from the basement, though further down, not at the door. But we could hear it clearly. \"Okay, that is it!\" Lance said, removing the pin that keeps his bangs out of his face. \"What do you mean?!\" I asked. He pushed me out of the way and started to pick the lock. \"We can't wait for mom and dad to get back, I'm unlocking this door NOW!\" He said.  \nWe were down in the basement with our flashlights, looking to see who had knocked back. We were both scared and determined. Then my flashlight turn on something that terrified me.\n\nShe looked about seventeen, and so much like me and Lance. She had long hair that almost touched the floor and slightly obscured her face, and it was black like mine and Lance's. She had the same pale skin as us and the same light smattering of dark freckles as us. Her clothes looked like she hadn't had new ones since ten. She looked so scared but relived to see us at the same time. She looked so much like my aunt. I didn't learn until later why she was put down there, but I already knew one thing in that moment.\n\nThis was my cousin.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473i9mo1w",
    "summary": " Twin siblings, Lance and the narrator, are suspicious of their creepy aunt and her locked basement. They sneak down one night and find their cousin locked up, who resembles their aunt. They realize their cousin has been kept hidden away by their aunt and feel both scared and relieved to have found her.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "My twin brother Lance and I never really liked our aunt's house. She always seemed so creepy there, like she was hiding something. She also looked a little creepy and had some features I know she hadn't been born with. She almost looked like a mother, despite having no children and never having any or even a husband or boyfriend at all.  I mentioned it to our dad when we were about eight, but he said it was nothing to worry about.But it seemed like he was lying.Once when I was ten I saw my aunt take a small amount of food and some water into the basement late at night, which was strictly off limits to me and my brother, though it was never said aloud. It was locked at all times. *\"Why would she eat it in there?\"* I thought. I shared it with Lance but no one else. When we were fourteen, Lance and I went to the basement door late at night, when our parents and aunt were out. We were supposed to be asleep and they had taken our phones and the tv remotes with them, so we decided to play a game with the door, which the material was good for. One of us would do a pattern of knocking and the other would try to match it. Lame, but we figured we couldn't get any more bored than we already were, and we still didn't want to go to sleep. After about a minute of playing, something happened. Before I could answer lance's knock,someone else did.It had come from the basement, though further down, not at the door. But we could hear it clearly. \"Okay, that is it!\" Lance said, removing the pin that keeps his bangs out of his face. \"What do you mean?!\" I asked. He pushed me out of the way and started to pick the lock. \"We can't wait for mom and dad to get back, I'm unlocking this door NOW!\" He said.  \nWe were down in the basement with our flashlights, looking to see who had knocked back. We were both scared and determined. Then my flashlight turn on something that terrified me.\n\nShe looked about seventeen, and so much like me and Lance. She had long hair that almost touched the floor and slightly obscured her face, and it was black like mine and Lance's. She had the same pale skin as us and the same light smattering of dark freckles as us. Her clothes looked like she hadn't had new ones since ten. She looked so scared but relived to see us at the same time. She looked so much like my aunt. I didn't learn until later why she was put down there, but I already knew one thing in that moment.\n\nThis was my cousin.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049ifb4eq",
    "summary": "The story is about a small, dying tree in a forest struggling for survival due to the dry season and larger trees around hogging the nutrients and moisture. The tree is visited by a human who waters and nourishes it, giving the tree hope and a fighting chance to survive. The human continues to visit, bringing water and good soil, and soon, the tree begins to revitalize and grow at its own pace. One day when the human is sad, the tree rustles its leaves and displays a blooming flower visible for the first time, a thank you and symbol of hope from the tree. The human understands the gesture despite the language barrier. The story exemplifies hope and resilience. As long as there's life, there's hope, and sometimes, simple gestures of compassion can greatly impact life around us.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The tree was dying. It knew that it did not have much time left. \nThe season had been dry and other, bigger trees in the forest had used up most of the nutrients and moisture that were still left in the soil around it. \nIt was still a thin and small trunk with only few branches and shallow roots. It lacked the resources to compete with the bigger trees around it. \nWhat use would it be to struggle against that already decided fate? Every day was just one day closer to the inevitable end. \nBut one day a stranger came to the forest. \nA human. \nThe tree did not know humans well. They rarely visited its part of the forest. On the rare occasions one found their way here they did not stay long. \nThis day too the tree expected the human to leave after a brief look around. \nBut that is not what happened. \nWith wide eyes full of wonder the human took in the vibrant environment. It seemed to be fascinated by all the trees and flowers that grew here. \nAnd then the human\u2018s gaze fell onto the dying tree. With browning, too dry leaves and in some places almost naked twigs and branches it was not pretty to look at. \nThe tree was sure the human would soon point its attention to the prettier and healthier plants around it. \nInstead the human stepped forward and touched one of its dried out branches with gentle fingers. It took out some kind of container from its pouch and slowly started pouring the liquid from it on the dry soil around the dying tree. \nWater. \nThe human had given it water.\nThe tree soaked it up as fast as it could. It wasn\u2019t quite enough but it was more than it had gotten in what felt like a long time. \nA fighting chance. Hope. \nThe container was empty now and the human put it back in its pouch. It looked reluctant. Then the human made some noises that the tree did not understand and left. \nIt was a short encounter, but it had fed the tree\u2018s dying flame of hope a little. The water had not been much, but it was enough to tide it over for just a bit longer. \nIt had a chance now. \nAnd unexpectedly the human visited again. And again and again. \nEach time bringing water with it and one time even some fresh, rich soil that it put around the tree. \nWith the human\u2018s help the previously dying tree began to flourish. On the outside not much difference could be seen yet but the changes were happening. The tree had fanned out its roots. It was growing them deeper every day in order to have a stable base for the future, with better access to the nutrients deep inside the earth. \nIt was also growing little buds, where flowers would bloom in time. There weren\u2019t many yet, but they gave hope for the future. \nOne bud was almost ready to bloom. It was hidden behind some leafs though so it wasn\u2019t directly visible. \nOne day the human came by again but didn\u2019t act like it normally did. \nThe human sat down on the ground with their arms slung tightly around themselves. \nWater started leaking from their eyes and desperate noises escaped their throat. \nIt sat there like that for a long time. \nThe tree did not know what was wrong with this human. It did not understand the behaviour the human was showing right now. But the tree knew one thing. \nIt wanted to do something for this human that had done so much for it. \nWith much effort it rustled some of its leaves. Some of them fell to the ground in front of the human. \nThe human looked up startled by the sudden noise. \nA beautiful, vibrant flower bloomed, no longer hidden by leafs. The tree had poured all the resources it could muster at that moment into that flower. This flower was all it had to give. \nThe humans eyes grew wide and the water stopped leaking from them. A big smile formed on the human\u2018s face. With gentle hands it touched the vibrant flower, careful not to accidentally damage it. \n\"Thank you\"\nEven though the tree could not understand the human language it understood the message the tried to convey. \nThe flower was the tree\u2018s thank you and the human had understood.\nSometimes with just a little help life found a way to persevere. And as long as there was a little life left there was hope. \nThe human stayed with the tree a long time before going away that day. And the tree knew that the human would always come back. As long as there is life there is hope.",
    "gold_faithful": 0,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "8167058533589479ifb4eq",
    "summary": "In this story, a dying tree in a forest struggles to survive due to a dry season and competition from larger trees. A human visitor arrives and, fascinated by the forest, notices the dying tree. The human decides to help the tree by providing it with water and rich soil. With the human's continued support, the tree slowly begins to recover, growing deeper roots and producing buds that will eventually bloom into flowers.\n\nOne day, the human visits the tree in a distressed state, crying and holding themselves tightly. The tree, wanting to reciprocate the human's kindness, musters its energy to produce a single, vibrant flower. The tree rustles its leaves, causing the flower to become visible to the human. The human, touched by the tree's gesture, smiles and gently touches the flower, expressing gratitude.\n\nThe story emphasizes the power of a small act of kindness and the resilience of life. It suggests that with a little help and support, even those struggling can find the strength to persevere and that as long as there is life, there is hope. The bond formed between the human and the tree highlights the interconnectedness of all living beings and the importance of caring for one another.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The tree was dying. It knew that it did not have much time left. \nThe season had been dry and other, bigger trees in the forest had used up most of the nutrients and moisture that were still left in the soil around it. \nIt was still a thin and small trunk with only few branches and shallow roots. It lacked the resources to compete with the bigger trees around it. \nWhat use would it be to struggle against that already decided fate? Every day was just one day closer to the inevitable end. \nBut one day a stranger came to the forest. \nA human. \nThe tree did not know humans well. They rarely visited its part of the forest. On the rare occasions one found their way here they did not stay long. \nThis day too the tree expected the human to leave after a brief look around. \nBut that is not what happened. \nWith wide eyes full of wonder the human took in the vibrant environment. It seemed to be fascinated by all the trees and flowers that grew here. \nAnd then the human\u2018s gaze fell onto the dying tree. With browning, too dry leaves and in some places almost naked twigs and branches it was not pretty to look at. \nThe tree was sure the human would soon point its attention to the prettier and healthier plants around it. \nInstead the human stepped forward and touched one of its dried out branches with gentle fingers. It took out some kind of container from its pouch and slowly started pouring the liquid from it on the dry soil around the dying tree. \nWater. \nThe human had given it water.\nThe tree soaked it up as fast as it could. It wasn\u2019t quite enough but it was more than it had gotten in what felt like a long time. \nA fighting chance. Hope. \nThe container was empty now and the human put it back in its pouch. It looked reluctant. Then the human made some noises that the tree did not understand and left. \nIt was a short encounter, but it had fed the tree\u2018s dying flame of hope a little. The water had not been much, but it was enough to tide it over for just a bit longer. \nIt had a chance now. \nAnd unexpectedly the human visited again. And again and again. \nEach time bringing water with it and one time even some fresh, rich soil that it put around the tree. \nWith the human\u2018s help the previously dying tree began to flourish. On the outside not much difference could be seen yet but the changes were happening. The tree had fanned out its roots. It was growing them deeper every day in order to have a stable base for the future, with better access to the nutrients deep inside the earth. \nIt was also growing little buds, where flowers would bloom in time. There weren\u2019t many yet, but they gave hope for the future. \nOne bud was almost ready to bloom. It was hidden behind some leafs though so it wasn\u2019t directly visible. \nOne day the human came by again but didn\u2019t act like it normally did. \nThe human sat down on the ground with their arms slung tightly around themselves. \nWater started leaking from their eyes and desperate noises escaped their throat. \nIt sat there like that for a long time. \nThe tree did not know what was wrong with this human. It did not understand the behaviour the human was showing right now. But the tree knew one thing. \nIt wanted to do something for this human that had done so much for it. \nWith much effort it rustled some of its leaves. Some of them fell to the ground in front of the human. \nThe human looked up startled by the sudden noise. \nA beautiful, vibrant flower bloomed, no longer hidden by leafs. The tree had poured all the resources it could muster at that moment into that flower. This flower was all it had to give. \nThe humans eyes grew wide and the water stopped leaking from them. A big smile formed on the human\u2018s face. With gentle hands it touched the vibrant flower, careful not to accidentally damage it. \n\"Thank you\"\nEven though the tree could not understand the human language it understood the message the tried to convey. \nThe flower was the tree\u2018s thank you and the human had understood.\nSometimes with just a little help life found a way to persevere. And as long as there was a little life left there was hope. \nThe human stayed with the tree a long time before going away that day. And the tree knew that the human would always come back. As long as there is life there is hope.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
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  },
  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473ifb4eq",
    "summary": " A dying tree in a dry forest is given new life by a kind human who provides water and care. The tree is able to grow and bloom, and in doing so, it brings joy and hope to the human who has helped it. The tree learned that with a little help, life can persevere and there is always hope. ",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The tree was dying. It knew that it did not have much time left. \nThe season had been dry and other, bigger trees in the forest had used up most of the nutrients and moisture that were still left in the soil around it. \nIt was still a thin and small trunk with only few branches and shallow roots. It lacked the resources to compete with the bigger trees around it. \nWhat use would it be to struggle against that already decided fate? Every day was just one day closer to the inevitable end. \nBut one day a stranger came to the forest. \nA human. \nThe tree did not know humans well. They rarely visited its part of the forest. On the rare occasions one found their way here they did not stay long. \nThis day too the tree expected the human to leave after a brief look around. \nBut that is not what happened. \nWith wide eyes full of wonder the human took in the vibrant environment. It seemed to be fascinated by all the trees and flowers that grew here. \nAnd then the human\u2018s gaze fell onto the dying tree. With browning, too dry leaves and in some places almost naked twigs and branches it was not pretty to look at. \nThe tree was sure the human would soon point its attention to the prettier and healthier plants around it. \nInstead the human stepped forward and touched one of its dried out branches with gentle fingers. It took out some kind of container from its pouch and slowly started pouring the liquid from it on the dry soil around the dying tree. \nWater. \nThe human had given it water.\nThe tree soaked it up as fast as it could. It wasn\u2019t quite enough but it was more than it had gotten in what felt like a long time. \nA fighting chance. Hope. \nThe container was empty now and the human put it back in its pouch. It looked reluctant. Then the human made some noises that the tree did not understand and left. \nIt was a short encounter, but it had fed the tree\u2018s dying flame of hope a little. The water had not been much, but it was enough to tide it over for just a bit longer. \nIt had a chance now. \nAnd unexpectedly the human visited again. And again and again. \nEach time bringing water with it and one time even some fresh, rich soil that it put around the tree. \nWith the human\u2018s help the previously dying tree began to flourish. On the outside not much difference could be seen yet but the changes were happening. The tree had fanned out its roots. It was growing them deeper every day in order to have a stable base for the future, with better access to the nutrients deep inside the earth. \nIt was also growing little buds, where flowers would bloom in time. There weren\u2019t many yet, but they gave hope for the future. \nOne bud was almost ready to bloom. It was hidden behind some leafs though so it wasn\u2019t directly visible. \nOne day the human came by again but didn\u2019t act like it normally did. \nThe human sat down on the ground with their arms slung tightly around themselves. \nWater started leaking from their eyes and desperate noises escaped their throat. \nIt sat there like that for a long time. \nThe tree did not know what was wrong with this human. It did not understand the behaviour the human was showing right now. But the tree knew one thing. \nIt wanted to do something for this human that had done so much for it. \nWith much effort it rustled some of its leaves. Some of them fell to the ground in front of the human. \nThe human looked up startled by the sudden noise. \nA beautiful, vibrant flower bloomed, no longer hidden by leafs. The tree had poured all the resources it could muster at that moment into that flower. This flower was all it had to give. \nThe humans eyes grew wide and the water stopped leaking from them. A big smile formed on the human\u2018s face. With gentle hands it touched the vibrant flower, careful not to accidentally damage it. \n\"Thank you\"\nEven though the tree could not understand the human language it understood the message the tried to convey. \nThe flower was the tree\u2018s thank you and the human had understood.\nSometimes with just a little help life found a way to persevere. And as long as there was a little life left there was hope. \nThe human stayed with the tree a long time before going away that day. And the tree knew that the human would always come back. As long as there is life there is hope.",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
    "gold_annotations": [
      1,
      1,
      1
    ]
  },
  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049j3pa4l",
    "summary": "The narrator is in a city that he likens to a prison. He is the last person standing after an epidemic or attack of some kind where people are bitten and turned into inhuman creatures. He battles these beings, using a gun and physical force, but they keep finding him due to the trail of blood he leaves behind from wounds he receives. The constant attacks and need for survival leave him questioning his moral compass. With only one bullet left and the creatures closing in on him, he decides to end his life. When he pulls the trigger, he doesn't hear the gunshot but rather a voice saying, \"Rebooting Obedience Program. Deleting memory cache. Please stand by...\" suggesting that the narrator might be part of a simulation or a programmed entity.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "For as long as I can remember, this city has tormented me. A paradise to all outside of it and a prison for all who inhabit it. I held the gun in my hand, my final possession worthy of keeping. This city\u2026 has taken everything from me. A member of the law, a beautiful family, a peaceful life that was more than anyone could ask for.\n\nTaken.\n\nThe noisy clubs and neon lights deafen and blind everyone from the rotten core I\u2019ve dealt with day in and day out. The red lights hide the blood on my hands. Sirens wail in the distance. No matter how steaming hot this night got, this rooftop filled with bodies felt colder than the deepest crypt. All I could do was sit there by the concrete ledge, facing the doorway holding the stairs, waiting for shadows to dance maniacally before me as the bite on my shoulder felt like a blowtorch breathed down my neck.\n\nI saw the others get bit. I saw my family get bit. I saw what they turned into. It was hard to fight off the call of sleep coursing through my veins from the wound. The only thing in me keeping it at bay was the adrenaline rush every time I felt the kick of the gun or the crunch of their bones against my hands and feet. In those sweet, precious, moments, I felt alive. Their destruction was my second heartbeat.\n\nYet no matter how many I killed, they kept coming. Kept finding me. They smelled the trail of blood, mine, and theirs. The most vile things imaginable, forcing me to do what\u2019s right until I don\u2019t know what\u2019s right anymore. An incentive to seek them out and blow their brains out. Blow any brain out to end the madness.\n\nChecking the magazine, a lonely brass shell met my hopeful greeting. Shoving it back in with a huff, I hear the snarl that echoed in my mind all night. They are coming. I am going. My family is waiting for me.\n\nAiming under my own chin, I pulled the trigger.\n\nI didn\u2019t hear the blessed scream of the barrel. Instead, I heard the same voice that haunted my dreams.\n\n\u201cRebooting Obedience Program. Deleting memory cache. Please stand by\u2026\u201d",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479j3pa4l",
    "summary": "The story is a dark and gritty tale of a person who has lost everything in a city that they perceive as a paradise for outsiders but a prison for its inhabitants. The protagonist, once a member of law enforcement with a beautiful family and peaceful life, has been reduced to fighting off what appears to be a zombie-like outbreak.\n\nThe city's noisy clubs and neon lights serve as a stark contrast to the protagonist's internal struggle and the violence they have experienced. The red lights symbolically hide the blood on their hands as they fight to survive.\n\nDespite their efforts to fight off the infected, the protagonist is bitten and struggles to stay awake. They find momentary solace in the destruction of the creatures, feeling alive in those brief instances.\n\nAs the infected continue to pursue the protagonist, they are left with a single bullet. Faced with the impending arrival of more infected and the weight of their losses, the protagonist chooses to end their own life.\n\nHowever, in a twist ending, it is revealed that the protagonist is part of an \"Obedience Program,\" suggesting that the entire experience may have been a simulation or a form of mind control. The story concludes with the program rebooting and the protagonist's memory being erased.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "For as long as I can remember, this city has tormented me. A paradise to all outside of it and a prison for all who inhabit it. I held the gun in my hand, my final possession worthy of keeping. This city\u2026 has taken everything from me. A member of the law, a beautiful family, a peaceful life that was more than anyone could ask for.\n\nTaken.\n\nThe noisy clubs and neon lights deafen and blind everyone from the rotten core I\u2019ve dealt with day in and day out. The red lights hide the blood on my hands. Sirens wail in the distance. No matter how steaming hot this night got, this rooftop filled with bodies felt colder than the deepest crypt. All I could do was sit there by the concrete ledge, facing the doorway holding the stairs, waiting for shadows to dance maniacally before me as the bite on my shoulder felt like a blowtorch breathed down my neck.\n\nI saw the others get bit. I saw my family get bit. I saw what they turned into. It was hard to fight off the call of sleep coursing through my veins from the wound. The only thing in me keeping it at bay was the adrenaline rush every time I felt the kick of the gun or the crunch of their bones against my hands and feet. In those sweet, precious, moments, I felt alive. Their destruction was my second heartbeat.\n\nYet no matter how many I killed, they kept coming. Kept finding me. They smelled the trail of blood, mine, and theirs. The most vile things imaginable, forcing me to do what\u2019s right until I don\u2019t know what\u2019s right anymore. An incentive to seek them out and blow their brains out. Blow any brain out to end the madness.\n\nChecking the magazine, a lonely brass shell met my hopeful greeting. Shoving it back in with a huff, I hear the snarl that echoed in my mind all night. They are coming. I am going. My family is waiting for me.\n\nAiming under my own chin, I pulled the trigger.\n\nI didn\u2019t hear the blessed scream of the barrel. Instead, I heard the same voice that haunted my dreams.\n\n\u201cRebooting Obedience Program. Deleting memory cache. Please stand by\u2026\u201d",
    "gold_faithful": 1,
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473j3pa4l",
    "summary": " The protagonist is a member of law enforcement in a corrupt city where they have lost everything, including their family, and are constantly fighting off zombie-like creatures. They contemplate ending their life, but instead their memory is wiped and they are reset to continue their duty of killing the creatures.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "For as long as I can remember, this city has tormented me. A paradise to all outside of it and a prison for all who inhabit it. I held the gun in my hand, my final possession worthy of keeping. This city\u2026 has taken everything from me. A member of the law, a beautiful family, a peaceful life that was more than anyone could ask for.\n\nTaken.\n\nThe noisy clubs and neon lights deafen and blind everyone from the rotten core I\u2019ve dealt with day in and day out. The red lights hide the blood on my hands. Sirens wail in the distance. No matter how steaming hot this night got, this rooftop filled with bodies felt colder than the deepest crypt. All I could do was sit there by the concrete ledge, facing the doorway holding the stairs, waiting for shadows to dance maniacally before me as the bite on my shoulder felt like a blowtorch breathed down my neck.\n\nI saw the others get bit. I saw my family get bit. I saw what they turned into. It was hard to fight off the call of sleep coursing through my veins from the wound. The only thing in me keeping it at bay was the adrenaline rush every time I felt the kick of the gun or the crunch of their bones against my hands and feet. In those sweet, precious, moments, I felt alive. Their destruction was my second heartbeat.\n\nYet no matter how many I killed, they kept coming. Kept finding me. They smelled the trail of blood, mine, and theirs. The most vile things imaginable, forcing me to do what\u2019s right until I don\u2019t know what\u2019s right anymore. An incentive to seek them out and blow their brains out. Blow any brain out to end the madness.\n\nChecking the magazine, a lonely brass shell met my hopeful greeting. Shoving it back in with a huff, I hear the snarl that echoed in my mind all night. They are coming. I am going. My family is waiting for me.\n\nAiming under my own chin, I pulled the trigger.\n\nI didn\u2019t hear the blessed scream of the barrel. Instead, I heard the same voice that haunted my dreams.\n\n\u201cRebooting Obedience Program. Deleting memory cache. Please stand by\u2026\u201d",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049jkc5q3",
    "summary": "Kyle, a 16-year-old boy, and his parents bought a vacation home in South Jersey where he met a beautiful girl named Elizabeth during his stroll on the beach. They had a friendly chat, and Kyle found something mysterious about her. When he asked for her phone number, she seemed distressed but kissed Kyle before running away. The next day, when Kyle could not find her, a local man revealed that the Elizabeth he described had drowned ten years ago and her body was never found, leading Kyle to realize he had kissed a ghost.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Kyle and his parents recently bought a vacation home in South Jersey. \n\nSince Kyle was an only child, he decided he\u2019d take a walk around his new beach town and meet new people. He was sixteen so his parents didn\u2019t care that he wondered off by himself. \n\nAfter exploring the town for the day, it was getting dark and Kyle decided he wanted to take a walk on the beach before he headed in for the night. \n\nHe walked along the tide. The beach before him was empty because it was late October and tourist season was long gone. That\u2019s why Kyle was shocked to see another person about twenty yards ahead of him, walking toward him. \n\nEven from this distance, he could make out that it was girl around his age walking his direction. And even from here, he could tell she was good looking. \n\nShe was now only ten yards away. Kyle slicked back his hair and went up to her. \n\n\u201cHow ya doing\u201d Kyle asked. \nThe girl was pale, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. She almost didn\u2019t seem real, that\u2019s how pale she was. But she had a charming smile and a slim figure. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m doing fine, just taking my normal stroll on the beach\u201d, she said. \n\nThey chatted for awhile. He found out her name was Elizabeth Wilson and she also lived in town with her family. She was friendly but there was something mysterious about her. Kyle didn\u2019t know what but he was curious about her. \n\n\u201cListen it\u2019s getting late\u201d, Kyle said, acknowledging the moonlight reflecting off the ocean. \u201cCan I get your number? We\u2019ll get dinner sometime.\u201d Kyle said. \n\nElizabeth\u2019s eyes started to water, she sniffled as if she was about to cry. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry if that\u2019s too forward,\u201d Kyle tried to explain, wondering why she was suddenly so upset. \n\n\u201cI can\u2019t\u201d she said. Her eyes were wide and longing. She looked as if she wanted to say something else but didn\u2019t. \u201cI can only give you this.\u201d \n\nShe suddenly planted her lips on his and they shared a deep kiss. Kyle breathed deeply. He could smell the ocean and sand on her. He was about to pull her closer when Elizabeth pulled away. She looked at him, deep in his eyes and then sprinted away. \n\nStunned Kyle shouted. \u201cHey wait, come back.\u201d \nBut it was too dark to see exactly where she ran off too. Kyle held his fingers to his lips, he could feel her kiss on lips, and he tasted salt. Ocean salt. \n \nConfused at what happened, Kyle made the walk back to his new house and went to bed. \n\nThe next morning he woke up, and immediately went out in town again. He wanted to find Elizabeth and find out what that was all about. He looked all around town and the beach but could not find her. \n\nDisappointed and still confused he sat alone in the sand, wondering about Elizabeth. \n\n\u201cYou okay kid?\u201d A voice from behind him said. \nKyle spun around and saw a man in mid fifties walking toward him. \n\n\u201cYeah I\u2019m fine\u201d Kyle said, looking at the crashing waves before him. \n\u201cI saw you walking up and down the beach like you were on a mission to find somebody, any way I can help?\u201d The man said. He was now standing next to him, also admiring the ocean as the sun began to set. \n\nKyle thought maybe this guy would know Elizabeth, it was a small town after all. \n\n\u201cWell,\u201d Kyle began, \u201cI\u2019m looking for a\u201d he didn\u2019t know what word to use. \u201cI\u2019m looking for a friend,\u201d he decided to say. \u201cHer names Elizabeth. Elizabeth Wilson.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man expectantly, hoping he had some piece of information of who she is or where he might find her. \n\nThe man turned to face Kyle completely. \u201cDid you say, Elizabeth Wilson?\u201d\nKyle nodded yes. \n\nThe mans face grew serious in the sinking sun. \n\n\u201cWhat does she look like?\u201d The man asked.\n\u201cPale, blonde hair, brown eyes, around my age, cute,\u201d Kyle answered. \n\nThe man looked questioning my into Kyle\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou playing some kind of prank?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d Kyle answered. \u201cNot at all, I- \u201c\n\nBut the man cut him off. \u201cThe Wilson\u2019s used to live two doors down from me.\u201d The man said, hitchhiking his thumb over his shoulder. \n\n\u201cBut They moved about ten years ago,\u201d the man continued. \u201cTragic what happened. Their daughter, Elizabeth went night swimming around this time of year, and she drowned. And they never found her body.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man in horror as realization dawned on him. Kyle hadn\u2019t kissed Elizabeth, he had kissed her ghost.",
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    "id": "8167058533589479jkc5q3",
    "summary": "In this story, Kyle is a 16-year-old boy who recently bought a vacation home with his parents in South Jersey. As an only child, he decides to explore the town and meet new people. One evening, while walking on the beach, he encounters a mysterious and attractive girl named Elizabeth Wilson. They chat for a while, and as it gets late, Kyle asks for her number. Instead of giving him her number, Elizabeth becomes emotional and kisses him before running away.\n\nThe next day, Kyle searches for Elizabeth in town and on the beach but can't find her. While sitting on the beach, a man in his mid-fifties approaches him and asks if he needs help. Kyle tells the man he's looking for his friend Elizabeth Wilson and describes her appearance. The man's face grows serious, and he reveals that the Wilsons used to live near him but moved away about ten years ago after a tragic incident. Their daughter, Elizabeth, drowned while night swimming around the same time of year, and her body was never found.\n\nKyle realizes with horror that he hadn't kissed Elizabeth, but rather her ghost.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Kyle and his parents recently bought a vacation home in South Jersey. \n\nSince Kyle was an only child, he decided he\u2019d take a walk around his new beach town and meet new people. He was sixteen so his parents didn\u2019t care that he wondered off by himself. \n\nAfter exploring the town for the day, it was getting dark and Kyle decided he wanted to take a walk on the beach before he headed in for the night. \n\nHe walked along the tide. The beach before him was empty because it was late October and tourist season was long gone. That\u2019s why Kyle was shocked to see another person about twenty yards ahead of him, walking toward him. \n\nEven from this distance, he could make out that it was girl around his age walking his direction. And even from here, he could tell she was good looking. \n\nShe was now only ten yards away. Kyle slicked back his hair and went up to her. \n\n\u201cHow ya doing\u201d Kyle asked. \nThe girl was pale, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. She almost didn\u2019t seem real, that\u2019s how pale she was. But she had a charming smile and a slim figure. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m doing fine, just taking my normal stroll on the beach\u201d, she said. \n\nThey chatted for awhile. He found out her name was Elizabeth Wilson and she also lived in town with her family. She was friendly but there was something mysterious about her. Kyle didn\u2019t know what but he was curious about her. \n\n\u201cListen it\u2019s getting late\u201d, Kyle said, acknowledging the moonlight reflecting off the ocean. \u201cCan I get your number? We\u2019ll get dinner sometime.\u201d Kyle said. \n\nElizabeth\u2019s eyes started to water, she sniffled as if she was about to cry. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry if that\u2019s too forward,\u201d Kyle tried to explain, wondering why she was suddenly so upset. \n\n\u201cI can\u2019t\u201d she said. Her eyes were wide and longing. She looked as if she wanted to say something else but didn\u2019t. \u201cI can only give you this.\u201d \n\nShe suddenly planted her lips on his and they shared a deep kiss. Kyle breathed deeply. He could smell the ocean and sand on her. He was about to pull her closer when Elizabeth pulled away. She looked at him, deep in his eyes and then sprinted away. \n\nStunned Kyle shouted. \u201cHey wait, come back.\u201d \nBut it was too dark to see exactly where she ran off too. Kyle held his fingers to his lips, he could feel her kiss on lips, and he tasted salt. Ocean salt. \n \nConfused at what happened, Kyle made the walk back to his new house and went to bed. \n\nThe next morning he woke up, and immediately went out in town again. He wanted to find Elizabeth and find out what that was all about. He looked all around town and the beach but could not find her. \n\nDisappointed and still confused he sat alone in the sand, wondering about Elizabeth. \n\n\u201cYou okay kid?\u201d A voice from behind him said. \nKyle spun around and saw a man in mid fifties walking toward him. \n\n\u201cYeah I\u2019m fine\u201d Kyle said, looking at the crashing waves before him. \n\u201cI saw you walking up and down the beach like you were on a mission to find somebody, any way I can help?\u201d The man said. He was now standing next to him, also admiring the ocean as the sun began to set. \n\nKyle thought maybe this guy would know Elizabeth, it was a small town after all. \n\n\u201cWell,\u201d Kyle began, \u201cI\u2019m looking for a\u201d he didn\u2019t know what word to use. \u201cI\u2019m looking for a friend,\u201d he decided to say. \u201cHer names Elizabeth. Elizabeth Wilson.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man expectantly, hoping he had some piece of information of who she is or where he might find her. \n\nThe man turned to face Kyle completely. \u201cDid you say, Elizabeth Wilson?\u201d\nKyle nodded yes. \n\nThe mans face grew serious in the sinking sun. \n\n\u201cWhat does she look like?\u201d The man asked.\n\u201cPale, blonde hair, brown eyes, around my age, cute,\u201d Kyle answered. \n\nThe man looked questioning my into Kyle\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou playing some kind of prank?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d Kyle answered. \u201cNot at all, I- \u201c\n\nBut the man cut him off. \u201cThe Wilson\u2019s used to live two doors down from me.\u201d The man said, hitchhiking his thumb over his shoulder. \n\n\u201cBut They moved about ten years ago,\u201d the man continued. \u201cTragic what happened. Their daughter, Elizabeth went night swimming around this time of year, and she drowned. And they never found her body.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man in horror as realization dawned on him. Kyle hadn\u2019t kissed Elizabeth, he had kissed her ghost.",
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473jkc5q3",
    "summary": " Kyle, a teenage boy exploring his new vacation home, meets and kisses a mysterious girl named Elizabeth on the beach. However, when he tries to find her the next day, he discovers that she had drowned years ago. It is revealed that he had actually kissed her ghost.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Kyle and his parents recently bought a vacation home in South Jersey. \n\nSince Kyle was an only child, he decided he\u2019d take a walk around his new beach town and meet new people. He was sixteen so his parents didn\u2019t care that he wondered off by himself. \n\nAfter exploring the town for the day, it was getting dark and Kyle decided he wanted to take a walk on the beach before he headed in for the night. \n\nHe walked along the tide. The beach before him was empty because it was late October and tourist season was long gone. That\u2019s why Kyle was shocked to see another person about twenty yards ahead of him, walking toward him. \n\nEven from this distance, he could make out that it was girl around his age walking his direction. And even from here, he could tell she was good looking. \n\nShe was now only ten yards away. Kyle slicked back his hair and went up to her. \n\n\u201cHow ya doing\u201d Kyle asked. \nThe girl was pale, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. She almost didn\u2019t seem real, that\u2019s how pale she was. But she had a charming smile and a slim figure. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m doing fine, just taking my normal stroll on the beach\u201d, she said. \n\nThey chatted for awhile. He found out her name was Elizabeth Wilson and she also lived in town with her family. She was friendly but there was something mysterious about her. Kyle didn\u2019t know what but he was curious about her. \n\n\u201cListen it\u2019s getting late\u201d, Kyle said, acknowledging the moonlight reflecting off the ocean. \u201cCan I get your number? We\u2019ll get dinner sometime.\u201d Kyle said. \n\nElizabeth\u2019s eyes started to water, she sniffled as if she was about to cry. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry if that\u2019s too forward,\u201d Kyle tried to explain, wondering why she was suddenly so upset. \n\n\u201cI can\u2019t\u201d she said. Her eyes were wide and longing. She looked as if she wanted to say something else but didn\u2019t. \u201cI can only give you this.\u201d \n\nShe suddenly planted her lips on his and they shared a deep kiss. Kyle breathed deeply. He could smell the ocean and sand on her. He was about to pull her closer when Elizabeth pulled away. She looked at him, deep in his eyes and then sprinted away. \n\nStunned Kyle shouted. \u201cHey wait, come back.\u201d \nBut it was too dark to see exactly where she ran off too. Kyle held his fingers to his lips, he could feel her kiss on lips, and he tasted salt. Ocean salt. \n \nConfused at what happened, Kyle made the walk back to his new house and went to bed. \n\nThe next morning he woke up, and immediately went out in town again. He wanted to find Elizabeth and find out what that was all about. He looked all around town and the beach but could not find her. \n\nDisappointed and still confused he sat alone in the sand, wondering about Elizabeth. \n\n\u201cYou okay kid?\u201d A voice from behind him said. \nKyle spun around and saw a man in mid fifties walking toward him. \n\n\u201cYeah I\u2019m fine\u201d Kyle said, looking at the crashing waves before him. \n\u201cI saw you walking up and down the beach like you were on a mission to find somebody, any way I can help?\u201d The man said. He was now standing next to him, also admiring the ocean as the sun began to set. \n\nKyle thought maybe this guy would know Elizabeth, it was a small town after all. \n\n\u201cWell,\u201d Kyle began, \u201cI\u2019m looking for a\u201d he didn\u2019t know what word to use. \u201cI\u2019m looking for a friend,\u201d he decided to say. \u201cHer names Elizabeth. Elizabeth Wilson.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man expectantly, hoping he had some piece of information of who she is or where he might find her. \n\nThe man turned to face Kyle completely. \u201cDid you say, Elizabeth Wilson?\u201d\nKyle nodded yes. \n\nThe mans face grew serious in the sinking sun. \n\n\u201cWhat does she look like?\u201d The man asked.\n\u201cPale, blonde hair, brown eyes, around my age, cute,\u201d Kyle answered. \n\nThe man looked questioning my into Kyle\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou playing some kind of prank?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d Kyle answered. \u201cNot at all, I- \u201c\n\nBut the man cut him off. \u201cThe Wilson\u2019s used to live two doors down from me.\u201d The man said, hitchhiking his thumb over his shoulder. \n\n\u201cBut They moved about ten years ago,\u201d the man continued. \u201cTragic what happened. Their daughter, Elizabeth went night swimming around this time of year, and she drowned. And they never found her body.\u201d\n\nKyle looked at the man in horror as realization dawned on him. Kyle hadn\u2019t kissed Elizabeth, he had kissed her ghost.",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049jz0uy6",
    "summary": "Toby, a man with limited success with women, finds himself entranced by a seductive woman at a nightclub. The woman's mysterious allure captivates him despite odd details such as her strength and constantly closed mouth. She takes him home and breaks the key in the lock, turning suddenly menacing as she reveals a mouth full of extra teeth, for which she credits Toby, as if he had played a part in giving them to her in the past. She then dislocates his jaw and begins to remove his teeth, leaving him in intense pain and fear.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Toby could not believe his luck. He had never achieved much success with women. As he had been often told, he lacked charm, looks or even that oft used fallback of a winning personality. Here she was however, dancing up against him. So close he could smell her perfume, he didn't recognise it but something in it drove him wild. The woman's slim frame and short dress certainly helped that too. She'd walked up to him, whispered in his ear in a voice like the sweetest honey that she liked his smile. That he had nice teeth. \n\nNothing else but inappropriate looks had been exchanged between them since then. She never opened her mouth. She hadn't spoken since they met and only appeared to breathe through her nose. On top of that her cheeks and lips seemed to bulge out slightly, like she was holding her breath. Then she pulled her top down a little further and those little details were lost to the back of his one track mind. \n\nToby took one last swig of the drink she had given him before hurling the bottle into the crowd behind him. In a voice far more slurred than confident he shouted over the din of the music \"So uh do you wanna get out of this dump? Your place or...\". The woman cut him off with a finger to his lips and a coy smile. \"My place then?\" he stammered, not having expected that to work. She nodded, took his hand and leads him out of the nightclub into the cool air. \n\nAs soon as they turned the corner from the nightclub, Toby seized the tiny blonde's shoulder and pushed her up against the wall. \"So how about a kiss?\" he slurred, leaning his face into hers. In response the woman placed one finger on his chest and pushed him back with ease. Then there was that coy smile again, lips never parting, before she took his hand and leads him on towards his house. That small part of his brain screamed out again. It tried warning the rest of him that a woman that small could not be that strong. That she was leading him straight to his house. Toby had never been the smartest man though and awash in alcohol the rest of his brain ignored the warning.   \n\nBefore he knew it he was at his door, the woman hanging off his arm softly giggled as he fiddled with his keys. His numb fingers dropped them, cursing he went to pick them up. Before he could the woman reached down, daintily gathered them up and walked past him to the door. Within a mere moment the door clicked and swung open. Toby stumbled past the woman into the hallway. He turned to see her stood right on the threshold, a forlorn look on her face. Irritated he blurted out \"well come on in then you dozy mare!\" Despite the unpleasant tone, she smiled at this, eyes agleam and stepped through the threshold. She pointed for Toby to head upstairs before turning and locking the door. Once she had snapped the key off in the lock, she followed Toby upstairs into the gloom. \n\nToby struggled furiously to get his trousers off. All he had managed however, was to get them tangled around his ankles. Before he could free himself, a short sharp shove sent him sprawling onto the bed. He scrambled onto his back in time to see the blonde climb onto the bed with him. She straddled his chest, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pinned him to the bed. The crushing pain her hands were causing was immediately blocked out by her smile. She flashed him a toothy grin.\n\nEven in his drunken state Toby was sure humans didn't have that many teeth.\n\nThe woman's smile grew at the look of horror on his face. Her mouth opened wide. Then wider still. Even in the gloom Toby could see them now. Pearly white teeth filled her grotesquely large mouth. No tongue could be seen. Just teeth, human teeth. \n\n\"I gave you a gift at the club, you know how this works\" she said in her voice like honey \"for that you owe me.\" Toby tried to cry out, but a vice like hand clamped his mouth shut. He slammed his fist into her side. All he received for his efforts was a soft giggle. \"Yes this isn't how it worked when you were a child,\" she purred, \"but I always remembered you had such pretty teeth.\"\n\nWith that she leaned forwards, forced her hands into his mouth and pried it wide open. Toby felt an agonising pop as his jaw dislocated. The last thing he remembered was that horrifying woman's hand reaching inside his mouth and grabbing a tooth...",
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479jz0uy6",
    "summary": "In the story, Toby, an unsuccessful man with women, is approached by a mysterious woman at a nightclub who compliments his smile and teeth. Despite her odd behavior, such as not speaking and having slightly bulging cheeks, Toby is captivated by her appearance. After sharing a drink, they leave for Toby's house.\n\nOutside the nightclub, the woman demonstrates unusual strength, and Toby's instincts warn him that something is amiss. However, he ignores these warnings due to his intoxication. At his house, the woman easily unlocks the door and follows Toby inside after he invites her in.\n\nIn the bedroom, the woman overpowers Toby and pins him to the bed. She reveals a grotesquely large mouth filled with numerous human teeth. The woman reminds Toby that he owes her for a gift she gave him at the club, implying a connection to his childhood. As Toby tries to fight back, the woman forces his mouth open, dislocating his jaw, and reaches inside to grab a tooth, leaving his fate uncertain.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Toby could not believe his luck. He had never achieved much success with women. As he had been often told, he lacked charm, looks or even that oft used fallback of a winning personality. Here she was however, dancing up against him. So close he could smell her perfume, he didn't recognise it but something in it drove him wild. The woman's slim frame and short dress certainly helped that too. She'd walked up to him, whispered in his ear in a voice like the sweetest honey that she liked his smile. That he had nice teeth. \n\nNothing else but inappropriate looks had been exchanged between them since then. She never opened her mouth. She hadn't spoken since they met and only appeared to breathe through her nose. On top of that her cheeks and lips seemed to bulge out slightly, like she was holding her breath. Then she pulled her top down a little further and those little details were lost to the back of his one track mind. \n\nToby took one last swig of the drink she had given him before hurling the bottle into the crowd behind him. In a voice far more slurred than confident he shouted over the din of the music \"So uh do you wanna get out of this dump? Your place or...\". The woman cut him off with a finger to his lips and a coy smile. \"My place then?\" he stammered, not having expected that to work. She nodded, took his hand and leads him out of the nightclub into the cool air. \n\nAs soon as they turned the corner from the nightclub, Toby seized the tiny blonde's shoulder and pushed her up against the wall. \"So how about a kiss?\" he slurred, leaning his face into hers. In response the woman placed one finger on his chest and pushed him back with ease. Then there was that coy smile again, lips never parting, before she took his hand and leads him on towards his house. That small part of his brain screamed out again. It tried warning the rest of him that a woman that small could not be that strong. That she was leading him straight to his house. Toby had never been the smartest man though and awash in alcohol the rest of his brain ignored the warning.   \n\nBefore he knew it he was at his door, the woman hanging off his arm softly giggled as he fiddled with his keys. His numb fingers dropped them, cursing he went to pick them up. Before he could the woman reached down, daintily gathered them up and walked past him to the door. Within a mere moment the door clicked and swung open. Toby stumbled past the woman into the hallway. He turned to see her stood right on the threshold, a forlorn look on her face. Irritated he blurted out \"well come on in then you dozy mare!\" Despite the unpleasant tone, she smiled at this, eyes agleam and stepped through the threshold. She pointed for Toby to head upstairs before turning and locking the door. Once she had snapped the key off in the lock, she followed Toby upstairs into the gloom. \n\nToby struggled furiously to get his trousers off. All he had managed however, was to get them tangled around his ankles. Before he could free himself, a short sharp shove sent him sprawling onto the bed. He scrambled onto his back in time to see the blonde climb onto the bed with him. She straddled his chest, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pinned him to the bed. The crushing pain her hands were causing was immediately blocked out by her smile. She flashed him a toothy grin.\n\nEven in his drunken state Toby was sure humans didn't have that many teeth.\n\nThe woman's smile grew at the look of horror on his face. Her mouth opened wide. Then wider still. Even in the gloom Toby could see them now. Pearly white teeth filled her grotesquely large mouth. No tongue could be seen. Just teeth, human teeth. \n\n\"I gave you a gift at the club, you know how this works\" she said in her voice like honey \"for that you owe me.\" Toby tried to cry out, but a vice like hand clamped his mouth shut. He slammed his fist into her side. All he received for his efforts was a soft giggle. \"Yes this isn't how it worked when you were a child,\" she purred, \"but I always remembered you had such pretty teeth.\"\n\nWith that she leaned forwards, forced her hands into his mouth and pried it wide open. Toby felt an agonising pop as his jaw dislocated. The last thing he remembered was that horrifying woman's hand reaching inside his mouth and grabbing a tooth...",
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473jz0uy6",
    "summary": " Toby, a man who lacks success with women, meets a mysterious woman at a nightclub. She leads him to his house, where she turns out to be a supernatural creature with a large mouth filled with human teeth. She claims that Toby owes her a debt, and proceeds to forcefully extract one of his teeth. ",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Toby could not believe his luck. He had never achieved much success with women. As he had been often told, he lacked charm, looks or even that oft used fallback of a winning personality. Here she was however, dancing up against him. So close he could smell her perfume, he didn't recognise it but something in it drove him wild. The woman's slim frame and short dress certainly helped that too. She'd walked up to him, whispered in his ear in a voice like the sweetest honey that she liked his smile. That he had nice teeth. \n\nNothing else but inappropriate looks had been exchanged between them since then. She never opened her mouth. She hadn't spoken since they met and only appeared to breathe through her nose. On top of that her cheeks and lips seemed to bulge out slightly, like she was holding her breath. Then she pulled her top down a little further and those little details were lost to the back of his one track mind. \n\nToby took one last swig of the drink she had given him before hurling the bottle into the crowd behind him. In a voice far more slurred than confident he shouted over the din of the music \"So uh do you wanna get out of this dump? Your place or...\". The woman cut him off with a finger to his lips and a coy smile. \"My place then?\" he stammered, not having expected that to work. She nodded, took his hand and leads him out of the nightclub into the cool air. \n\nAs soon as they turned the corner from the nightclub, Toby seized the tiny blonde's shoulder and pushed her up against the wall. \"So how about a kiss?\" he slurred, leaning his face into hers. In response the woman placed one finger on his chest and pushed him back with ease. Then there was that coy smile again, lips never parting, before she took his hand and leads him on towards his house. That small part of his brain screamed out again. It tried warning the rest of him that a woman that small could not be that strong. That she was leading him straight to his house. Toby had never been the smartest man though and awash in alcohol the rest of his brain ignored the warning.   \n\nBefore he knew it he was at his door, the woman hanging off his arm softly giggled as he fiddled with his keys. His numb fingers dropped them, cursing he went to pick them up. Before he could the woman reached down, daintily gathered them up and walked past him to the door. Within a mere moment the door clicked and swung open. Toby stumbled past the woman into the hallway. He turned to see her stood right on the threshold, a forlorn look on her face. Irritated he blurted out \"well come on in then you dozy mare!\" Despite the unpleasant tone, she smiled at this, eyes agleam and stepped through the threshold. She pointed for Toby to head upstairs before turning and locking the door. Once she had snapped the key off in the lock, she followed Toby upstairs into the gloom. \n\nToby struggled furiously to get his trousers off. All he had managed however, was to get them tangled around his ankles. Before he could free himself, a short sharp shove sent him sprawling onto the bed. He scrambled onto his back in time to see the blonde climb onto the bed with him. She straddled his chest, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pinned him to the bed. The crushing pain her hands were causing was immediately blocked out by her smile. She flashed him a toothy grin.\n\nEven in his drunken state Toby was sure humans didn't have that many teeth.\n\nThe woman's smile grew at the look of horror on his face. Her mouth opened wide. Then wider still. Even in the gloom Toby could see them now. Pearly white teeth filled her grotesquely large mouth. No tongue could be seen. Just teeth, human teeth. \n\n\"I gave you a gift at the club, you know how this works\" she said in her voice like honey \"for that you owe me.\" Toby tried to cry out, but a vice like hand clamped his mouth shut. He slammed his fist into her side. All he received for his efforts was a soft giggle. \"Yes this isn't how it worked when you were a child,\" she purred, \"but I always remembered you had such pretty teeth.\"\n\nWith that she leaned forwards, forced her hands into his mouth and pried it wide open. Toby felt an agonising pop as his jaw dislocated. The last thing he remembered was that horrifying woman's hand reaching inside his mouth and grabbing a tooth...",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049kjpf0z",
    "summary": "The story introduces us to a small street dog fondly named Tomorrow, whose memories reveal a difficult life of cramped cardboard shelters and the haunting loneliness of alleyways. He has an aversion to uncaring humans who overlook the struggles of the street animals, with the only exception being a gentle and caring girl, The Girl. The Girl provides Tomorrow with consistent meals, shows tender affection, and promises to see him each day. This daily routine forms a bond between the two, and Tomorrow returns her kindness with unwavering loyalty and love. Tragedy hits when The Girl suddenly disappears, leaving Tomorrow alone and desolate in his cardboard shelter. Despite the icy weather and his uncertain future, the dog finds warmth in the memories of his beloved friend and the fervor of her promises to see him, to see Tomorrow.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Once upon a time there was a dog. The dogs name was Rover, and the story is over. \n\nBe glad that is not our story, for you see, our story also starts with a dog. A little dog and a little girl.\n\nEver since he could remember he was on the streets. He didn't remember much from his puppy years- only faint impressions of family and warmth remained in the deepest recesses of his memory. Cold winds and frigid rain devoured everything in their path- but he was safe... in a ramshackle cardboard box. \n\nHe was safe in his little corner of alley, ignored by the hurried people with sharp voices and pounding footsteps. He didn't like people. Not those people anyway. When all he could see were their dangerous shoes and loping limbs, ignorant of an entire world of street dogs and cats that are eating street rats. \n\nThey rushed away from the rain, business suits, raggedy coats and anything in between, empty streets they said- blind to life in between. In between meals, homes and danger, the only things as constant to him as his tail, the promise of a meal with the little girl and his name. \n\n\"See you tomorrow!\" Echoes in his ears again. He had just gotten a good meal, a soft pet and lots of love. The girl- a title which he thinks with all the adoration possible, because she's The Girl. The only human he thinks of as something other that 'giant', a generic title that stuck. The small dog scarcely remembers a time when he didn't come to The Girl everyday, didn't have a guaranteed meal and companionship for some time. \n\nShe was always so nice, he tried to show her as much love as he could in return. Her soft voice was a melody in a world of screeches and anger. The only time he had ever heard her stern was when he nudged a cylinder of metal next of her- or the weird tubes that connected it to her face. She had gasped- shoving him away in her panic. But more than that, she was scared- and hurt, when he did that. He never did it again.\n\nSnapping back to reality on a gloomy day- a tad warmer than yesterday, he finished scarfing down his meal. A blend of something that tasted amazing and The Girl had gotten just for him. She looked back at him smiling softly. A voice called from her house. \n\n\"I'll see you tomorrow.\" The way she said tomorrow- said it everyday was inflicted with so much emotion that even normal human hearing would be able to sense the difference. The terrier may not notice the small contortions of her expression of even emotions in her eyes, but what he did notice, sharper than any human- and more insightful was his own language. The slight tensing of muscles to form a 'fist' (Aggression? Determination?); A slight tilt of the head towards the tank; and a hopeful inflection on her tone. Naturally, he assumed she would say nothing else but his name with such emotion. \n\nThe small terrier knew, like the sky is blue, that his name was Tomorrow. To him that was that. His little world summed up by noisy streets and summer heat, by little girls and cats that made him hurl, that even in the scary snow, devoid the chirp of a sparrow, his name was Tomorrow.\n\nThere was a routine never broken. Bent in places, a little dented, but whole and unbroken. Until today. The little girl wasn't there. He always found her, always knew her, she had a distinct smell- that made some of his instincts think she was weak, but the rest to comfort her. But she, along with her strange tubes and tanks and half-smiles was gone. The last thing he remembered seeing yesterday, while he was halfway across the street, was a blaring alarm and a screeching van,(red? white?). \n\nShe had said she'd see him. See Tomorrow. See him Tomorrow. He waited for hours. Sitting. Waiting. \n\nA car pulled up. He jumped up, tail wagging, ready to greet her. Two giants came out- the ones who sometimes called for her and watched her, one in tears and one shell shocked. Two giants, but no little Girl.\n\nA ramshackle cardboard box. That was where he sat. Despite the icy, frigid rain- the harsh unforgiving footsteps of the people, Tomorrow curled protectively around his memories of The Girl, her half hazy forgotten face, and the way she said his name. Determined to meet him. Determined to meet Tomorrow. Cold whispers brushed past him; Tomorrow felt warm.",
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    "id": "8167058533589479kjpf0z",
    "summary": "In this poignant story, a small terrier named Tomorrow has been living on the streets for as long as he can remember. His only solace is a little girl who visits him every day, providing him with food, love, and companionship. The girl, who remains unnamed, is connected to strange tubes and tanks, hinting at an underlying health condition.\n\nThe story follows their routine and the bond they share, with the girl always promising to see Tomorrow the next day. However, one day, the routine is broken when the girl doesn't show up. Tomorrow recalls a blaring alarm and a screeching van from the previous day, suggesting that something might have happened to the girl.\n\nAs Tomorrow waits for hours, two of the girl's guardians arrive, one in tears and the other shell-shocked, but the girl is nowhere to be seen. Despite the harsh weather and the unforgiving world around him, Tomorrow finds comfort and warmth in his memories of the girl and the way she said his name, forever determined to meet him, to meet Tomorrow.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Once upon a time there was a dog. The dogs name was Rover, and the story is over. \n\nBe glad that is not our story, for you see, our story also starts with a dog. A little dog and a little girl.\n\nEver since he could remember he was on the streets. He didn't remember much from his puppy years- only faint impressions of family and warmth remained in the deepest recesses of his memory. Cold winds and frigid rain devoured everything in their path- but he was safe... in a ramshackle cardboard box. \n\nHe was safe in his little corner of alley, ignored by the hurried people with sharp voices and pounding footsteps. He didn't like people. Not those people anyway. When all he could see were their dangerous shoes and loping limbs, ignorant of an entire world of street dogs and cats that are eating street rats. \n\nThey rushed away from the rain, business suits, raggedy coats and anything in between, empty streets they said- blind to life in between. In between meals, homes and danger, the only things as constant to him as his tail, the promise of a meal with the little girl and his name. \n\n\"See you tomorrow!\" Echoes in his ears again. He had just gotten a good meal, a soft pet and lots of love. The girl- a title which he thinks with all the adoration possible, because she's The Girl. The only human he thinks of as something other that 'giant', a generic title that stuck. The small dog scarcely remembers a time when he didn't come to The Girl everyday, didn't have a guaranteed meal and companionship for some time. \n\nShe was always so nice, he tried to show her as much love as he could in return. Her soft voice was a melody in a world of screeches and anger. The only time he had ever heard her stern was when he nudged a cylinder of metal next of her- or the weird tubes that connected it to her face. She had gasped- shoving him away in her panic. But more than that, she was scared- and hurt, when he did that. He never did it again.\n\nSnapping back to reality on a gloomy day- a tad warmer than yesterday, he finished scarfing down his meal. A blend of something that tasted amazing and The Girl had gotten just for him. She looked back at him smiling softly. A voice called from her house. \n\n\"I'll see you tomorrow.\" The way she said tomorrow- said it everyday was inflicted with so much emotion that even normal human hearing would be able to sense the difference. The terrier may not notice the small contortions of her expression of even emotions in her eyes, but what he did notice, sharper than any human- and more insightful was his own language. The slight tensing of muscles to form a 'fist' (Aggression? Determination?); A slight tilt of the head towards the tank; and a hopeful inflection on her tone. Naturally, he assumed she would say nothing else but his name with such emotion. \n\nThe small terrier knew, like the sky is blue, that his name was Tomorrow. To him that was that. His little world summed up by noisy streets and summer heat, by little girls and cats that made him hurl, that even in the scary snow, devoid the chirp of a sparrow, his name was Tomorrow.\n\nThere was a routine never broken. Bent in places, a little dented, but whole and unbroken. Until today. The little girl wasn't there. He always found her, always knew her, she had a distinct smell- that made some of his instincts think she was weak, but the rest to comfort her. But she, along with her strange tubes and tanks and half-smiles was gone. The last thing he remembered seeing yesterday, while he was halfway across the street, was a blaring alarm and a screeching van,(red? white?). \n\nShe had said she'd see him. See Tomorrow. See him Tomorrow. He waited for hours. Sitting. Waiting. \n\nA car pulled up. He jumped up, tail wagging, ready to greet her. Two giants came out- the ones who sometimes called for her and watched her, one in tears and one shell shocked. Two giants, but no little Girl.\n\nA ramshackle cardboard box. That was where he sat. Despite the icy, frigid rain- the harsh unforgiving footsteps of the people, Tomorrow curled protectively around his memories of The Girl, her half hazy forgotten face, and the way she said his name. Determined to meet him. Determined to meet Tomorrow. Cold whispers brushed past him; Tomorrow felt warm.",
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    "id": "7340915067632839473kjpf0z",
    "summary": " This is a story about a stray dog named Tomorrow who lives on the streets and has a special bond with a little girl who feeds him. But one day, the girl doesn't show up and he learns that she has been taken to the hospital. Despite harsh conditions, Tomorrow waits for her, determined to see her again.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "Once upon a time there was a dog. The dogs name was Rover, and the story is over. \n\nBe glad that is not our story, for you see, our story also starts with a dog. A little dog and a little girl.\n\nEver since he could remember he was on the streets. He didn't remember much from his puppy years- only faint impressions of family and warmth remained in the deepest recesses of his memory. Cold winds and frigid rain devoured everything in their path- but he was safe... in a ramshackle cardboard box. \n\nHe was safe in his little corner of alley, ignored by the hurried people with sharp voices and pounding footsteps. He didn't like people. Not those people anyway. When all he could see were their dangerous shoes and loping limbs, ignorant of an entire world of street dogs and cats that are eating street rats. \n\nThey rushed away from the rain, business suits, raggedy coats and anything in between, empty streets they said- blind to life in between. In between meals, homes and danger, the only things as constant to him as his tail, the promise of a meal with the little girl and his name. \n\n\"See you tomorrow!\" Echoes in his ears again. He had just gotten a good meal, a soft pet and lots of love. The girl- a title which he thinks with all the adoration possible, because she's The Girl. The only human he thinks of as something other that 'giant', a generic title that stuck. The small dog scarcely remembers a time when he didn't come to The Girl everyday, didn't have a guaranteed meal and companionship for some time. \n\nShe was always so nice, he tried to show her as much love as he could in return. Her soft voice was a melody in a world of screeches and anger. The only time he had ever heard her stern was when he nudged a cylinder of metal next of her- or the weird tubes that connected it to her face. She had gasped- shoving him away in her panic. But more than that, she was scared- and hurt, when he did that. He never did it again.\n\nSnapping back to reality on a gloomy day- a tad warmer than yesterday, he finished scarfing down his meal. A blend of something that tasted amazing and The Girl had gotten just for him. She looked back at him smiling softly. A voice called from her house. \n\n\"I'll see you tomorrow.\" The way she said tomorrow- said it everyday was inflicted with so much emotion that even normal human hearing would be able to sense the difference. The terrier may not notice the small contortions of her expression of even emotions in her eyes, but what he did notice, sharper than any human- and more insightful was his own language. The slight tensing of muscles to form a 'fist' (Aggression? Determination?); A slight tilt of the head towards the tank; and a hopeful inflection on her tone. Naturally, he assumed she would say nothing else but his name with such emotion. \n\nThe small terrier knew, like the sky is blue, that his name was Tomorrow. To him that was that. His little world summed up by noisy streets and summer heat, by little girls and cats that made him hurl, that even in the scary snow, devoid the chirp of a sparrow, his name was Tomorrow.\n\nThere was a routine never broken. Bent in places, a little dented, but whole and unbroken. Until today. The little girl wasn't there. He always found her, always knew her, she had a distinct smell- that made some of his instincts think she was weak, but the rest to comfort her. But she, along with her strange tubes and tanks and half-smiles was gone. The last thing he remembered seeing yesterday, while he was halfway across the street, was a blaring alarm and a screeching van,(red? white?). \n\nShe had said she'd see him. See Tomorrow. See him Tomorrow. He waited for hours. Sitting. Waiting. \n\nA car pulled up. He jumped up, tail wagging, ready to greet her. Two giants came out- the ones who sometimes called for her and watched her, one in tears and one shell shocked. Two giants, but no little Girl.\n\nA ramshackle cardboard box. That was where he sat. Despite the icy, frigid rain- the harsh unforgiving footsteps of the people, Tomorrow curled protectively around his memories of The Girl, her half hazy forgotten face, and the way she said his name. Determined to meet him. Determined to meet Tomorrow. Cold whispers brushed past him; Tomorrow felt warm.",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049o5b58g",
    "summary": "The story is about the narrator\u2019s interactions with a miniature dragon in a world where dragons are common and tied to one's wealth. The narrator reveals that dragons' sizes are directly proportionate to one's gold hoard. People are careful not upset their coins/dragons, ensuring to trade the entirety of the dragon's hoard as they shop. The narrator, unaware of these rules, spends part of his dragon's hoard and ends up with an upset dragon. While trying to please his dragon with different offerings, the narrator learns that splitting the hoard angers the dragon. Eventually, after trading one of his gold coins for 15 silver ones, he wakes to find his previously tiny dragon grown bigger, sleeping on his new hoard of silver coins, and he wonders about how to deal with his growing dragon problem.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The myth of Dragons have been greatly misrepresented over the years. The first falsehood being that they were in fact a myth, the second being that they were large and terrifying reptiles set on destroying mankind.\u00a0\n\nA dragon's size was directly proportionate to the size of it's gold hoard, but no dragon has ever gotten more than one or two coins. There are rumors that Mr. Chinue at the top of the hill has a large dragon, protecting his large pile of gold, but personally I just think they're rumors. Shop keepers especially, are good about keeping the dragon coins away from the non-dragon coins.\u00a0\n\nThat was another falsehood, Dragons don't care who owns the coin, as long as they travel with it. Most people when they go shopping, take their little coin purse complete with a dragon. The tricky part is making sure to trade the entirety of the Dragon's hoard, as not to upset the dragon. Some people have to pay for a tiny loaf of bread with a whole gold coin just to keep the dragon happy. You can't split it up, which is why most dragons only have small hoards.\u00a0\n\nIt really is a pain when you're looking to buy and the shop keeper doesn't have a dragon hoard the correct size to give you proper change. Sometimes you get lucky and get a little more back, but more often than not you get shorted change. This is just an expectation now when you go shopping.\u00a0\n\nTaking a dragon from it's hoard can be dangerous, it's not going to burn down a village but you might lose a finger, and the dragon will ALWAYS find it's way back to its hoard.\u00a0\n\nWhich is actually my current problem right now. See, I just learned all of this about dragons today. Like 5 minutes ago in fact. Dragons aren't common in the western province where I am from, but here in the eastern province? They're everywhere!\u00a0\n\nSo when I spent my gold coin earlier, I got 3 silver coins and a tiny dragon back in change. Then when I saw a jacket, I spent 2 of my silver coins. Unfortunately unaware of the consequences that would follow this action.\u00a0\n\nYou see, my dragon was sleeping when I had spent his coins. It wasn't until later, when I was on my way back to the Western province, that I heard the high pitched wail from inside my coin purse.\u00a0\n\nConfused by the sound of distress, I peaked in and immediately got a tiny green dragon attached to my nose.\u00a0\n\nWith a startled yelp, I swiped at my face sending the dragon tumbling towards the ground. With a high pitched battle cry, the small reptile flung itself back at me and attached itself to my shoulder.\u00a0\n\nOne second it was fine, sure it's claws dug a little deep into my brand new coat, but it had seemed to calm down. The next second a high pitched cry was released from it's mouth, directly into my ear.\u00a0\n\nThis cry went on for 10 minutes before I tried to bribe the creature.\u00a0\n\n\"Here dragon,\" I tsk'd lightly, holding up a gold coin. \"I'm sorry I gave away your silver coins but you can have this one!\"\u00a0\n\nThe high pitched squeal didn't stop.\u00a0\n\nEventually on the road I met a couple travelers who were all too happy to trade me 3 silver coins for my gold coin. A complete rip off if you asked me, but I was desperate.\u00a0\n\nHolding the coins out to the dragon as a peace offering, the cry stopped for a moment. The dragon sniffed the coins, turned his nose up at them and went back to his crying.\u00a0\n\nBy the time evening had fallen and I had set up camp, the cry had become ingrained in my head as the most irritating noise ever, and my new jacket was completely destroyed on the right shoulder.\u00a0\n\nPulling the jacket over my head, I finally fell asleep with the screaming still continuing.\u00a0\n\n-_-_-_-\u00a0\n\nWaking up the next morning was peaceful\u2026 and surprising. The desperate cries of the dragon had finally stopped and I could finally think again.\u00a0\n\nLooking around, I couldn't see the dragon anywhere. Everything else was the same, I still had all my possessions, I still had a hole in my new jacket. I was just down a dragon.\u00a0\n\nGood riddance. I thought as I gathered up my stuff.\n\nFinally picking up my coin purse, I was surprised by the odd lump that occupied it.\u00a0\n\nSlowly peaking in, I could see a slightly larger dragon sleeping away on what looked like 15 new silver coins!\u00a0\n\nSlowly closing the bag, I wondered to myself\u2026 what would happen if I did it again?\u00a0",
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479o5b58g",
    "summary": "The story is a humorous tale about a person who discovers the truth about dragons in a world where they are real but misunderstood. In this world, dragons are small creatures that are attached to their hoards of gold and silver coins. The size of a dragon is directly proportional to the size of its hoard, but most dragons only have a few coins.\n\nThe protagonist, who is from the Western province where dragons are uncommon, visits the Eastern province where dragons are everywhere. They unknowingly spend some of their dragon's silver coins, causing the dragon to become distressed and cry loudly. The protagonist tries to appease the dragon by offering it a gold coin, but the dragon refuses.\n\nEventually, the protagonist trades their gold coin for three silver coins with some travelers, but the dragon still doesn't accept them. The dragon's cries continue throughout the night, and the protagonist's new jacket is ruined.\n\nThe next morning, the protagonist wakes up to find the dragon gone, but their coin purse now contains a slightly larger dragon sleeping on 15 new silver coins. The protagonist wonders what would happen if they repeated the process, hinting at the possibility of growing their dragon's hoard and size.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The myth of Dragons have been greatly misrepresented over the years. The first falsehood being that they were in fact a myth, the second being that they were large and terrifying reptiles set on destroying mankind.\u00a0\n\nA dragon's size was directly proportionate to the size of it's gold hoard, but no dragon has ever gotten more than one or two coins. There are rumors that Mr. Chinue at the top of the hill has a large dragon, protecting his large pile of gold, but personally I just think they're rumors. Shop keepers especially, are good about keeping the dragon coins away from the non-dragon coins.\u00a0\n\nThat was another falsehood, Dragons don't care who owns the coin, as long as they travel with it. Most people when they go shopping, take their little coin purse complete with a dragon. The tricky part is making sure to trade the entirety of the Dragon's hoard, as not to upset the dragon. Some people have to pay for a tiny loaf of bread with a whole gold coin just to keep the dragon happy. You can't split it up, which is why most dragons only have small hoards.\u00a0\n\nIt really is a pain when you're looking to buy and the shop keeper doesn't have a dragon hoard the correct size to give you proper change. Sometimes you get lucky and get a little more back, but more often than not you get shorted change. This is just an expectation now when you go shopping.\u00a0\n\nTaking a dragon from it's hoard can be dangerous, it's not going to burn down a village but you might lose a finger, and the dragon will ALWAYS find it's way back to its hoard.\u00a0\n\nWhich is actually my current problem right now. See, I just learned all of this about dragons today. Like 5 minutes ago in fact. Dragons aren't common in the western province where I am from, but here in the eastern province? They're everywhere!\u00a0\n\nSo when I spent my gold coin earlier, I got 3 silver coins and a tiny dragon back in change. Then when I saw a jacket, I spent 2 of my silver coins. Unfortunately unaware of the consequences that would follow this action.\u00a0\n\nYou see, my dragon was sleeping when I had spent his coins. It wasn't until later, when I was on my way back to the Western province, that I heard the high pitched wail from inside my coin purse.\u00a0\n\nConfused by the sound of distress, I peaked in and immediately got a tiny green dragon attached to my nose.\u00a0\n\nWith a startled yelp, I swiped at my face sending the dragon tumbling towards the ground. With a high pitched battle cry, the small reptile flung itself back at me and attached itself to my shoulder.\u00a0\n\nOne second it was fine, sure it's claws dug a little deep into my brand new coat, but it had seemed to calm down. The next second a high pitched cry was released from it's mouth, directly into my ear.\u00a0\n\nThis cry went on for 10 minutes before I tried to bribe the creature.\u00a0\n\n\"Here dragon,\" I tsk'd lightly, holding up a gold coin. \"I'm sorry I gave away your silver coins but you can have this one!\"\u00a0\n\nThe high pitched squeal didn't stop.\u00a0\n\nEventually on the road I met a couple travelers who were all too happy to trade me 3 silver coins for my gold coin. A complete rip off if you asked me, but I was desperate.\u00a0\n\nHolding the coins out to the dragon as a peace offering, the cry stopped for a moment. The dragon sniffed the coins, turned his nose up at them and went back to his crying.\u00a0\n\nBy the time evening had fallen and I had set up camp, the cry had become ingrained in my head as the most irritating noise ever, and my new jacket was completely destroyed on the right shoulder.\u00a0\n\nPulling the jacket over my head, I finally fell asleep with the screaming still continuing.\u00a0\n\n-_-_-_-\u00a0\n\nWaking up the next morning was peaceful\u2026 and surprising. The desperate cries of the dragon had finally stopped and I could finally think again.\u00a0\n\nLooking around, I couldn't see the dragon anywhere. Everything else was the same, I still had all my possessions, I still had a hole in my new jacket. I was just down a dragon.\u00a0\n\nGood riddance. I thought as I gathered up my stuff.\n\nFinally picking up my coin purse, I was surprised by the odd lump that occupied it.\u00a0\n\nSlowly peaking in, I could see a slightly larger dragon sleeping away on what looked like 15 new silver coins!\u00a0\n\nSlowly closing the bag, I wondered to myself\u2026 what would happen if I did it again?\u00a0",
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473o5b58g",
    "summary": "\n\nThe story is about a person who learns the truth about dragons and how they are not large and terrifying creatures, but instead are small and only possess a small hoard of coins. The protagonist accidentally spends their dragon's coins and struggles to appease the angry dragon, but eventually ends up with a larger dragon and a hoard of coins as a result.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "The myth of Dragons have been greatly misrepresented over the years. The first falsehood being that they were in fact a myth, the second being that they were large and terrifying reptiles set on destroying mankind.\u00a0\n\nA dragon's size was directly proportionate to the size of it's gold hoard, but no dragon has ever gotten more than one or two coins. There are rumors that Mr. Chinue at the top of the hill has a large dragon, protecting his large pile of gold, but personally I just think they're rumors. Shop keepers especially, are good about keeping the dragon coins away from the non-dragon coins.\u00a0\n\nThat was another falsehood, Dragons don't care who owns the coin, as long as they travel with it. Most people when they go shopping, take their little coin purse complete with a dragon. The tricky part is making sure to trade the entirety of the Dragon's hoard, as not to upset the dragon. Some people have to pay for a tiny loaf of bread with a whole gold coin just to keep the dragon happy. You can't split it up, which is why most dragons only have small hoards.\u00a0\n\nIt really is a pain when you're looking to buy and the shop keeper doesn't have a dragon hoard the correct size to give you proper change. Sometimes you get lucky and get a little more back, but more often than not you get shorted change. This is just an expectation now when you go shopping.\u00a0\n\nTaking a dragon from it's hoard can be dangerous, it's not going to burn down a village but you might lose a finger, and the dragon will ALWAYS find it's way back to its hoard.\u00a0\n\nWhich is actually my current problem right now. See, I just learned all of this about dragons today. Like 5 minutes ago in fact. Dragons aren't common in the western province where I am from, but here in the eastern province? They're everywhere!\u00a0\n\nSo when I spent my gold coin earlier, I got 3 silver coins and a tiny dragon back in change. Then when I saw a jacket, I spent 2 of my silver coins. Unfortunately unaware of the consequences that would follow this action.\u00a0\n\nYou see, my dragon was sleeping when I had spent his coins. It wasn't until later, when I was on my way back to the Western province, that I heard the high pitched wail from inside my coin purse.\u00a0\n\nConfused by the sound of distress, I peaked in and immediately got a tiny green dragon attached to my nose.\u00a0\n\nWith a startled yelp, I swiped at my face sending the dragon tumbling towards the ground. With a high pitched battle cry, the small reptile flung itself back at me and attached itself to my shoulder.\u00a0\n\nOne second it was fine, sure it's claws dug a little deep into my brand new coat, but it had seemed to calm down. The next second a high pitched cry was released from it's mouth, directly into my ear.\u00a0\n\nThis cry went on for 10 minutes before I tried to bribe the creature.\u00a0\n\n\"Here dragon,\" I tsk'd lightly, holding up a gold coin. \"I'm sorry I gave away your silver coins but you can have this one!\"\u00a0\n\nThe high pitched squeal didn't stop.\u00a0\n\nEventually on the road I met a couple travelers who were all too happy to trade me 3 silver coins for my gold coin. A complete rip off if you asked me, but I was desperate.\u00a0\n\nHolding the coins out to the dragon as a peace offering, the cry stopped for a moment. The dragon sniffed the coins, turned his nose up at them and went back to his crying.\u00a0\n\nBy the time evening had fallen and I had set up camp, the cry had become ingrained in my head as the most irritating noise ever, and my new jacket was completely destroyed on the right shoulder.\u00a0\n\nPulling the jacket over my head, I finally fell asleep with the screaming still continuing.\u00a0\n\n-_-_-_-\u00a0\n\nWaking up the next morning was peaceful\u2026 and surprising. The desperate cries of the dragon had finally stopped and I could finally think again.\u00a0\n\nLooking around, I couldn't see the dragon anywhere. Everything else was the same, I still had all my possessions, I still had a hole in my new jacket. I was just down a dragon.\u00a0\n\nGood riddance. I thought as I gathered up my stuff.\n\nFinally picking up my coin purse, I was surprised by the odd lump that occupied it.\u00a0\n\nSlowly peaking in, I could see a slightly larger dragon sleeping away on what looked like 15 new silver coins!\u00a0\n\nSlowly closing the bag, I wondered to myself\u2026 what would happen if I did it again?\u00a0",
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    "id": "7911522387646974049we8usc",
    "summary": "This is an allegorical tale, presenting life events as characters at a party hosted by Life itself. At the party, Sorrow wore black, Luck sparkled in gold, Worries wore mouse-grey suits, Joy wore yellow, and so on. Malice and Envy, sat in one corner belittling others, particularly commenting on Love's pink dress and her inability to afford it. Fame was drunk and encouraged by big Money. Diligence was helping Power by fetching drinks while Work was busy replenishing the buffet.\n\nWhen Life gave its speech, he welcomed significant attendees such as Happiness, Love, Sex, Money, and Joy. After thunderous applause and the start of music, Sex and Eroticism danced a tango while an old lady decided to leave the party. Wisdom pointed out to Life that he had missed greeting her, an important guest. \n\nRushing to the lady's side, Life was apologetic, but she responded that she knows all the guests but is often unrecognized. Only Trouble, Sorrow, Illness, and Death miss her, whom she finds boring. Life reluctantly agreed, and she handed him her business card before disappearing. \n\nAfter the party, when all the guests had left, Life read the card which was labeled \"Satisfaction - Difficult to reach - Try more often\", indicating that satisfaction in life is hard to attain and requires constant effort.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "They had all come to the big party. Sorrow wore black, of course, with a sophisticated little lace veil. Luck could hardly be seen, her golden sequined dress sparkled and flashed in the spotlight so much that it hurt the eyes. Worries were serious again, typical, mouse-gray suits, even the ties weren't very creative, but of first, expensive quality. Joy was wrapped in yellow and had a huge sunflower pinned to her dress. Quite vulgar for Trouble\u2019s taste, but Trouble was just a little pinched, you could tell just by looking at his dark green suit. \"Green, please, only losers wear that,\" Malice whispered to her neighbor, Envy.\n\nOnce again, the two couldn't separate. All evening, they huddled together in one corner, trashing the others. \"Look at Love\", Envy hissed to Malice. \"Where the hell did she find that dress? Squeaky pink and these flounces. Sinfully expensive designer, of course, and she can't even afford it.\" \"She looks like a cake\u201d, Malice returned, \"Fat buttercream.\"\n\nAs Sex entered the brightly lit hall, a murmur went through the crowd. His skin-tight snakeskin suit exposed his beautifully sculpted body more than it concealed it. Eroticism took a large sip of champagne at the sight of him and drew attention with her throaty laugh. Her discreet evening dress shimmered in a velvety red.\n\nIllness had retreated to a quiet table in the corner. Her white dress competed with her noble pallor, and she toasted Death with a glass of chamomile tea. As usual, Death had settled stealthily behind a pillar and pulled his black hat down over his face that most didn't even recognize him.\n\nHonor, as pretty much at every party, was walking around smoking cigarettes. \"Embarrassing,\" thought Pride, wiping the sweat from his forehead. \"Come on\", said Kindness, \"Poor Honor can't afford cigarettes after all,\" and surreptitiously slipped her a packet. Fame was almost drunk. He stood in the corner and bawled, encouraged by big Money, who stood next to him and pretty much fogged him with his Havana.\n\nPower, of course, had shown up with his entire court. Fear was constantly scurrying around them, and Diligence was fetching drinks.\n\nWork was busy as always. She constantly had to add the cold plates on the buffet, and somehow the spoons seemed to have run out. Then the host stepped to the microphone. He was dressed very colorfully and looked a bit like a harlequin. \"Oh God, now he's giving a speech too, and he can't even speak,\" Malice whispered to her best friend.\n\n\"Dear friends, dear partners\", Life began a little hesitantly, \"I'm glad you all came to celebrate me today. I'm especially pleased to have my guests of honor with me. I warmly welcome her Excellency, Happiness and the ambassador of the heart, Love, the mysterious Eroticism, the wild Sex, the almighty Money and of course, my good friend, Joy. Let's have a nice party together, and please don't go home too early.\"\n\nThunderous applause rushed through the hall. People toasted each other and when the music started, Sex and Eroticism danced a tango that even Malice was speechless.\n\nAn old Lady plucked her lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, then resolutely closed her purse and hurried to the exit. Wisdom, also not quite dewy, saw it and hurried to the host.\n\n\"Dear Life, you forgot to greet your most important guest,\" she muttered to Life. Life looked in the direction Wisdom was pointing.\n\n\"Oh, I\u2019m a douche,\" Life insulted himself, \"I must've committed a great faux pas.\" Life rushed to the exit and held the old lady. \"Please, I'd like to introduce you to the other guests\", he tried to apologize.\n\n\"My son, there's no need. I know them all, believe me, but I am usually not recognized. And the only ones who will miss me are Trouble, Sorrow, Illness, and Death. But they're pretty boring, young man,\" said the old lady.\n\n\"I will miss you,\" said Life.\n\nThe old Lady handed her business card to Life and disappeared.\n\nLife plunged back into the party scene. Money and Love flirted over the rim of the glass, and Life and Joy danced a waltz. Of course, Love left the party with her old habit.\n\nWhen all the guests had finally left - Luck and Fame once again totally drunk - Life took the old woman's business card out of his pocket and read:\n\nSatisfaction\n\nDifficult to reach\n\nTry more often",
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    "id": "8167058533589479we8usc",
    "summary": "The story revolves around a grand party attended by various personified concepts and emotions, such as Sorrow, Luck, Worries, Joy, Trouble, Malice, Envy, Love, Sex, Eroticism, Illness, Death, Honor, Pride, Kindness, Fame, Money, Power, Fear, Diligence, and Work. The host of the party is Life, who welcomes his guests of honor, including Happiness, Love, Eroticism, Sex, Money, and Joy.\n\nThroughout the party, the guests interact with one another, displaying their characteristic traits. Malice and Envy gossip about the other guests, while Sex and Eroticism captivate the crowd with their alluring presence. Illness and Death share a quiet moment, and Honor struggles to afford cigarettes.\n\nAs Life begins his speech, he fails to acknowledge one important guest - an old lady. Wisdom points out this oversight, and Life rushes to apologize to the old lady, who reveals that she is usually not recognized and that only Trouble, Sorrow, Illness, and Death will miss her. She hands her business card to Life and leaves the party.\n\nThe party continues with various interactions among the guests, and when it ends, Life takes out the old lady's business card, which reads \"Satisfaction - Difficult to reach - Try more often.\"",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "They had all come to the big party. Sorrow wore black, of course, with a sophisticated little lace veil. Luck could hardly be seen, her golden sequined dress sparkled and flashed in the spotlight so much that it hurt the eyes. Worries were serious again, typical, mouse-gray suits, even the ties weren't very creative, but of first, expensive quality. Joy was wrapped in yellow and had a huge sunflower pinned to her dress. Quite vulgar for Trouble\u2019s taste, but Trouble was just a little pinched, you could tell just by looking at his dark green suit. \"Green, please, only losers wear that,\" Malice whispered to her neighbor, Envy.\n\nOnce again, the two couldn't separate. All evening, they huddled together in one corner, trashing the others. \"Look at Love\", Envy hissed to Malice. \"Where the hell did she find that dress? Squeaky pink and these flounces. Sinfully expensive designer, of course, and she can't even afford it.\" \"She looks like a cake\u201d, Malice returned, \"Fat buttercream.\"\n\nAs Sex entered the brightly lit hall, a murmur went through the crowd. His skin-tight snakeskin suit exposed his beautifully sculpted body more than it concealed it. Eroticism took a large sip of champagne at the sight of him and drew attention with her throaty laugh. Her discreet evening dress shimmered in a velvety red.\n\nIllness had retreated to a quiet table in the corner. Her white dress competed with her noble pallor, and she toasted Death with a glass of chamomile tea. As usual, Death had settled stealthily behind a pillar and pulled his black hat down over his face that most didn't even recognize him.\n\nHonor, as pretty much at every party, was walking around smoking cigarettes. \"Embarrassing,\" thought Pride, wiping the sweat from his forehead. \"Come on\", said Kindness, \"Poor Honor can't afford cigarettes after all,\" and surreptitiously slipped her a packet. Fame was almost drunk. He stood in the corner and bawled, encouraged by big Money, who stood next to him and pretty much fogged him with his Havana.\n\nPower, of course, had shown up with his entire court. Fear was constantly scurrying around them, and Diligence was fetching drinks.\n\nWork was busy as always. She constantly had to add the cold plates on the buffet, and somehow the spoons seemed to have run out. Then the host stepped to the microphone. He was dressed very colorfully and looked a bit like a harlequin. \"Oh God, now he's giving a speech too, and he can't even speak,\" Malice whispered to her best friend.\n\n\"Dear friends, dear partners\", Life began a little hesitantly, \"I'm glad you all came to celebrate me today. I'm especially pleased to have my guests of honor with me. I warmly welcome her Excellency, Happiness and the ambassador of the heart, Love, the mysterious Eroticism, the wild Sex, the almighty Money and of course, my good friend, Joy. Let's have a nice party together, and please don't go home too early.\"\n\nThunderous applause rushed through the hall. People toasted each other and when the music started, Sex and Eroticism danced a tango that even Malice was speechless.\n\nAn old Lady plucked her lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, then resolutely closed her purse and hurried to the exit. Wisdom, also not quite dewy, saw it and hurried to the host.\n\n\"Dear Life, you forgot to greet your most important guest,\" she muttered to Life. Life looked in the direction Wisdom was pointing.\n\n\"Oh, I\u2019m a douche,\" Life insulted himself, \"I must've committed a great faux pas.\" Life rushed to the exit and held the old lady. \"Please, I'd like to introduce you to the other guests\", he tried to apologize.\n\n\"My son, there's no need. I know them all, believe me, but I am usually not recognized. And the only ones who will miss me are Trouble, Sorrow, Illness, and Death. But they're pretty boring, young man,\" said the old lady.\n\n\"I will miss you,\" said Life.\n\nThe old Lady handed her business card to Life and disappeared.\n\nLife plunged back into the party scene. Money and Love flirted over the rim of the glass, and Life and Joy danced a waltz. Of course, Love left the party with her old habit.\n\nWhen all the guests had finally left - Luck and Fame once again totally drunk - Life took the old woman's business card out of his pocket and read:\n\nSatisfaction\n\nDifficult to reach\n\nTry more often",
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    "id": "7340915067632839473we8usc",
    "summary": " A wide range of personified emotions and characteristics gather at a fancy party thrown by Life. Some guests are well-received and popular, while others are disliked or ignored. As the night wears on, the host, Life, forgets to recognize an important guest - Satisfaction - who turns out to be the most valuable of them all. The party ends and the guests leave, each with their own motives and behaviors. However, Life is left with a lesson to remember, to strive for satisfaction in all aspects of his life.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "They had all come to the big party. Sorrow wore black, of course, with a sophisticated little lace veil. Luck could hardly be seen, her golden sequined dress sparkled and flashed in the spotlight so much that it hurt the eyes. Worries were serious again, typical, mouse-gray suits, even the ties weren't very creative, but of first, expensive quality. Joy was wrapped in yellow and had a huge sunflower pinned to her dress. Quite vulgar for Trouble\u2019s taste, but Trouble was just a little pinched, you could tell just by looking at his dark green suit. \"Green, please, only losers wear that,\" Malice whispered to her neighbor, Envy.\n\nOnce again, the two couldn't separate. All evening, they huddled together in one corner, trashing the others. \"Look at Love\", Envy hissed to Malice. \"Where the hell did she find that dress? Squeaky pink and these flounces. Sinfully expensive designer, of course, and she can't even afford it.\" \"She looks like a cake\u201d, Malice returned, \"Fat buttercream.\"\n\nAs Sex entered the brightly lit hall, a murmur went through the crowd. His skin-tight snakeskin suit exposed his beautifully sculpted body more than it concealed it. Eroticism took a large sip of champagne at the sight of him and drew attention with her throaty laugh. Her discreet evening dress shimmered in a velvety red.\n\nIllness had retreated to a quiet table in the corner. Her white dress competed with her noble pallor, and she toasted Death with a glass of chamomile tea. As usual, Death had settled stealthily behind a pillar and pulled his black hat down over his face that most didn't even recognize him.\n\nHonor, as pretty much at every party, was walking around smoking cigarettes. \"Embarrassing,\" thought Pride, wiping the sweat from his forehead. \"Come on\", said Kindness, \"Poor Honor can't afford cigarettes after all,\" and surreptitiously slipped her a packet. Fame was almost drunk. He stood in the corner and bawled, encouraged by big Money, who stood next to him and pretty much fogged him with his Havana.\n\nPower, of course, had shown up with his entire court. Fear was constantly scurrying around them, and Diligence was fetching drinks.\n\nWork was busy as always. She constantly had to add the cold plates on the buffet, and somehow the spoons seemed to have run out. Then the host stepped to the microphone. He was dressed very colorfully and looked a bit like a harlequin. \"Oh God, now he's giving a speech too, and he can't even speak,\" Malice whispered to her best friend.\n\n\"Dear friends, dear partners\", Life began a little hesitantly, \"I'm glad you all came to celebrate me today. I'm especially pleased to have my guests of honor with me. I warmly welcome her Excellency, Happiness and the ambassador of the heart, Love, the mysterious Eroticism, the wild Sex, the almighty Money and of course, my good friend, Joy. Let's have a nice party together, and please don't go home too early.\"\n\nThunderous applause rushed through the hall. People toasted each other and when the music started, Sex and Eroticism danced a tango that even Malice was speechless.\n\nAn old Lady plucked her lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, then resolutely closed her purse and hurried to the exit. Wisdom, also not quite dewy, saw it and hurried to the host.\n\n\"Dear Life, you forgot to greet your most important guest,\" she muttered to Life. Life looked in the direction Wisdom was pointing.\n\n\"Oh, I\u2019m a douche,\" Life insulted himself, \"I must've committed a great faux pas.\" Life rushed to the exit and held the old lady. \"Please, I'd like to introduce you to the other guests\", he tried to apologize.\n\n\"My son, there's no need. I know them all, believe me, but I am usually not recognized. And the only ones who will miss me are Trouble, Sorrow, Illness, and Death. But they're pretty boring, young man,\" said the old lady.\n\n\"I will miss you,\" said Life.\n\nThe old Lady handed her business card to Life and disappeared.\n\nLife plunged back into the party scene. Money and Love flirted over the rim of the glass, and Life and Joy danced a waltz. Of course, Love left the party with her old habit.\n\nWhen all the guests had finally left - Luck and Fame once again totally drunk - Life took the old woman's business card out of his pocket and read:\n\nSatisfaction\n\nDifficult to reach\n\nTry more often",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049woglbn",
    "summary": "A man and his brother are on an archaeological dig in the Yucat\u00e1n when they discover an painting of a mysterious idol. They become obsessed with finding it, abandoning the dig and scouring the city for any rumors about it. They find a clue in a souvenir shop, and despite warnings from the shop owner about the idol's corruptive powers, they continue their search. After a month of hardship, they finally reach the idol, which is protected by a lava lake and commands a life in return for its possession. The man makes the ultimate sacrifice by pushing his brother into the lava to get the idol. Now alone on an island, the man feels the power of the idol in him, convinced that losing his life, career, and brother was worth it.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "It was worth it.\n\nI repeat the mantra over and over in my head as I ascend from the cave. My breath comes in gasps. My fingernails are dirty and caked in blood. My muscles shake, my head pounds with exhaustion, and my ankle throbs. Across my back I carry a weight that drags me down like an anchor, threatening to trap me in this cave forever. \n\nIt was worth it.\n\nMy brother and I were on an archaeological excavation in the Yucat\u00e1n when we discovered an unknown temple. As we ecstatically began to explore its depths, we found a painting of an idol. An idol with glowing blue eyes and a black, sinewy form. So eerie, and yet so intriguing and beautiful it defied comprehension. We became obsessed with finding it. At first we believed it would be at the site, but it quickly became evident that this wasn\u2019t the case. After days spent scouring the ruins we abandoned our prestigious dig, including the new temple, and made for the city. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nWe scoured the market.  We talked to gurus, shamans, con men, and se\u00f1oras selling fruit on the ground. We begged every person we talked to for any rumor, myth, or legend they knew about the idol. We spent every penny we had until we were beggars, dependent on the charity of those around us for food and shelter. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally, we got our break deep within the recesses of a souvenir shop. The owner led us past rows of cheap clothing and knick knacks to her private office, where she pulled a book from a dusty shelf. The book showed the way to an island shrouded in pink clouds, an island with a cave protecting an idol with bright blue eyes and a dark body. \n\nThe shop owner insisted we abandon our search. She spoke of the corruptive powers of the idol, and the potential harm its bearer could bring on themselves and others. We didn\u2019t listen. When it became clear we intended to take the book, the shop owner tried to grab it and run. She fell and broke her leg in the ensuing struggle. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nIt took another month of menial labor to save the money for supplies for our expedition. We barely ate, surviving mainly on trampled, moldy scraps from the market. We sheltered in alleys at night, fending off so many rats, fleas, and stray dogs that we barely slept. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally we set off at a feverish pace toward our island. We walked, we rode in the backs of trucks, we stole bicycles, and we finally forced a frightened man at gunpoint to take us to the island in his boat. We jumped overboard as soon as it was within sight and swam the rest of the way. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe cave was predictably treacherous. We fell enough times that soon we were bleeding on every limb. I sprained my ankle so badly I almost passed out, and my brother snapped both of the bones in his left forearm. But we continued on, stumbling through tunnel after tunnel. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe idol rested in the center of a cavernous room, settled on a stone altar. Surrounding it was a lake of magma, the heat so intense it singed our faces. \n\nThere was no voice, no writing, nothing to indicate our next step. But we knew anyway. The idol demanded a life in return for its possession. Something snapped inside my brother. For the first time in our quest, fear and doubt filled his expression. He grabbed my arm, face pleading, \u201cNo! It isn\u2019t worth it!\u201d \n\nI gazed at him for a long moment. My playmate, my lifelong companion, my best friend. And then in one motion I shoved him into the magma. He only screamed for a moment before he was enveloped. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe magma vanished in an instant, and I found myself before the idol. It was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, small enough to fit in my satchel. But power tingled through it, and through me. I took it and returned the way we\u2019d come. \n\nI finally collapse outside the cave. My life, my career, and my beloved brother are gone. I am marooned on an island with no hope of escape. I take the idol from my satchel and lock my gaze with its blue eyes. They begin to glow more fiercely, and the power thrumming through it grows. I feel a presence shift from the idol to reside in me, whispering to me of kingdoms, power, glory, bloodshed. I stagger to my feet, a being remade. \n\nIt was worth it.",
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    "id": "8167058533589479woglbn",
    "summary": "In this story, the narrator and their brother, both archaeologists, become obsessed with finding an idol they discovered in a painting while excavating an unknown temple in the Yucat\u00e1n. They abandon their dig and spend all their resources searching for the idol, eventually finding a book that leads them to an island with a cave housing the artifact.\n\nDespite warnings about the idol's corruptive powers, they persist in their quest, enduring physical hardships and committing unethical acts to reach the island. Inside the cave, they face treacherous conditions and severe injuries. The idol demands a life in exchange for possession, and in a moment of desperation, the narrator pushes their brother into a magma lake, sacrificing him.\n\nThe magma disappears, and the narrator claims the small but powerful idol. Stranded on the island, the narrator feels the idol's presence and power transferring to them, promising kingdoms, glory, and bloodshed. The story concludes with the narrator, now a transformed being, believing that the sacrifice and hardships endured were worth it to obtain the idol.\n\nThroughout the story, the phrase \"It was worth it\" is repeated, emphasizing the narrator's unyielding determination and the lengths they are willing to go to achieve their goal, regardless of the consequences.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "It was worth it.\n\nI repeat the mantra over and over in my head as I ascend from the cave. My breath comes in gasps. My fingernails are dirty and caked in blood. My muscles shake, my head pounds with exhaustion, and my ankle throbs. Across my back I carry a weight that drags me down like an anchor, threatening to trap me in this cave forever. \n\nIt was worth it.\n\nMy brother and I were on an archaeological excavation in the Yucat\u00e1n when we discovered an unknown temple. As we ecstatically began to explore its depths, we found a painting of an idol. An idol with glowing blue eyes and a black, sinewy form. So eerie, and yet so intriguing and beautiful it defied comprehension. We became obsessed with finding it. At first we believed it would be at the site, but it quickly became evident that this wasn\u2019t the case. After days spent scouring the ruins we abandoned our prestigious dig, including the new temple, and made for the city. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nWe scoured the market.  We talked to gurus, shamans, con men, and se\u00f1oras selling fruit on the ground. We begged every person we talked to for any rumor, myth, or legend they knew about the idol. We spent every penny we had until we were beggars, dependent on the charity of those around us for food and shelter. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally, we got our break deep within the recesses of a souvenir shop. The owner led us past rows of cheap clothing and knick knacks to her private office, where she pulled a book from a dusty shelf. The book showed the way to an island shrouded in pink clouds, an island with a cave protecting an idol with bright blue eyes and a dark body. \n\nThe shop owner insisted we abandon our search. She spoke of the corruptive powers of the idol, and the potential harm its bearer could bring on themselves and others. We didn\u2019t listen. When it became clear we intended to take the book, the shop owner tried to grab it and run. She fell and broke her leg in the ensuing struggle. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nIt took another month of menial labor to save the money for supplies for our expedition. We barely ate, surviving mainly on trampled, moldy scraps from the market. We sheltered in alleys at night, fending off so many rats, fleas, and stray dogs that we barely slept. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally we set off at a feverish pace toward our island. We walked, we rode in the backs of trucks, we stole bicycles, and we finally forced a frightened man at gunpoint to take us to the island in his boat. We jumped overboard as soon as it was within sight and swam the rest of the way. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe cave was predictably treacherous. We fell enough times that soon we were bleeding on every limb. I sprained my ankle so badly I almost passed out, and my brother snapped both of the bones in his left forearm. But we continued on, stumbling through tunnel after tunnel. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe idol rested in the center of a cavernous room, settled on a stone altar. Surrounding it was a lake of magma, the heat so intense it singed our faces. \n\nThere was no voice, no writing, nothing to indicate our next step. But we knew anyway. The idol demanded a life in return for its possession. Something snapped inside my brother. For the first time in our quest, fear and doubt filled his expression. He grabbed my arm, face pleading, \u201cNo! It isn\u2019t worth it!\u201d \n\nI gazed at him for a long moment. My playmate, my lifelong companion, my best friend. And then in one motion I shoved him into the magma. He only screamed for a moment before he was enveloped. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe magma vanished in an instant, and I found myself before the idol. It was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, small enough to fit in my satchel. But power tingled through it, and through me. I took it and returned the way we\u2019d come. \n\nI finally collapse outside the cave. My life, my career, and my beloved brother are gone. I am marooned on an island with no hope of escape. I take the idol from my satchel and lock my gaze with its blue eyes. They begin to glow more fiercely, and the power thrumming through it grows. I feel a presence shift from the idol to reside in me, whispering to me of kingdoms, power, glory, bloodshed. I stagger to my feet, a being remade. \n\nIt was worth it.",
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  {
    "id": "7340915067632839473woglbn",
    "summary": " A man and his brother become fixated on finding an idol with glowing blue eyes. They go to great lengths, including stealing, violence, and sacrificing a life, to obtain it. The protagonist ends up alone on an island with the idol, which gives him a sense of power and control, justifying all of the sacrifices he made to obtain it.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "It was worth it.\n\nI repeat the mantra over and over in my head as I ascend from the cave. My breath comes in gasps. My fingernails are dirty and caked in blood. My muscles shake, my head pounds with exhaustion, and my ankle throbs. Across my back I carry a weight that drags me down like an anchor, threatening to trap me in this cave forever. \n\nIt was worth it.\n\nMy brother and I were on an archaeological excavation in the Yucat\u00e1n when we discovered an unknown temple. As we ecstatically began to explore its depths, we found a painting of an idol. An idol with glowing blue eyes and a black, sinewy form. So eerie, and yet so intriguing and beautiful it defied comprehension. We became obsessed with finding it. At first we believed it would be at the site, but it quickly became evident that this wasn\u2019t the case. After days spent scouring the ruins we abandoned our prestigious dig, including the new temple, and made for the city. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nWe scoured the market.  We talked to gurus, shamans, con men, and se\u00f1oras selling fruit on the ground. We begged every person we talked to for any rumor, myth, or legend they knew about the idol. We spent every penny we had until we were beggars, dependent on the charity of those around us for food and shelter. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally, we got our break deep within the recesses of a souvenir shop. The owner led us past rows of cheap clothing and knick knacks to her private office, where she pulled a book from a dusty shelf. The book showed the way to an island shrouded in pink clouds, an island with a cave protecting an idol with bright blue eyes and a dark body. \n\nThe shop owner insisted we abandon our search. She spoke of the corruptive powers of the idol, and the potential harm its bearer could bring on themselves and others. We didn\u2019t listen. When it became clear we intended to take the book, the shop owner tried to grab it and run. She fell and broke her leg in the ensuing struggle. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nIt took another month of menial labor to save the money for supplies for our expedition. We barely ate, surviving mainly on trampled, moldy scraps from the market. We sheltered in alleys at night, fending off so many rats, fleas, and stray dogs that we barely slept. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nFinally we set off at a feverish pace toward our island. We walked, we rode in the backs of trucks, we stole bicycles, and we finally forced a frightened man at gunpoint to take us to the island in his boat. We jumped overboard as soon as it was within sight and swam the rest of the way. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe cave was predictably treacherous. We fell enough times that soon we were bleeding on every limb. I sprained my ankle so badly I almost passed out, and my brother snapped both of the bones in his left forearm. But we continued on, stumbling through tunnel after tunnel. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe idol rested in the center of a cavernous room, settled on a stone altar. Surrounding it was a lake of magma, the heat so intense it singed our faces. \n\nThere was no voice, no writing, nothing to indicate our next step. But we knew anyway. The idol demanded a life in return for its possession. Something snapped inside my brother. For the first time in our quest, fear and doubt filled his expression. He grabbed my arm, face pleading, \u201cNo! It isn\u2019t worth it!\u201d \n\nI gazed at him for a long moment. My playmate, my lifelong companion, my best friend. And then in one motion I shoved him into the magma. He only screamed for a moment before he was enveloped. \n\nIt was worth it. \n\nThe magma vanished in an instant, and I found myself before the idol. It was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, small enough to fit in my satchel. But power tingled through it, and through me. I took it and returned the way we\u2019d come. \n\nI finally collapse outside the cave. My life, my career, and my beloved brother are gone. I am marooned on an island with no hope of escape. I take the idol from my satchel and lock my gaze with its blue eyes. They begin to glow more fiercely, and the power thrumming through it grows. I feel a presence shift from the idol to reside in me, whispering to me of kingdoms, power, glory, bloodshed. I stagger to my feet, a being remade. \n\nIt was worth it.",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049y44vzl",
    "summary": "The protagonist, August, is journeying westward on his horse Morgan after being accused of a crime he didn't commit. He was a hardworking Nebraska resident who was working towards buying a land but his life turned upside down when he was thrown into prison for a murder he had no knowledge of. Upon escaping prison, he finds no support from his parents and sets off west to start anew. He rides through the barren lands of Wyoming hoping to settle in Utah. He makes a stop at Fort Bridger, secures lodging and supplies and also catches the eye of a woman named Mary Ann. She approaches August one night revealing that she is \"in trouble.\"",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "August wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. His wide-brimmed hat mostly kept the sun out of his eyes but it still beat down on him hard. His unique wine-colored vest and chaps along with his cotton shirt and brown trousers didn't help either. On his trusty steed named Morgan, August is riding west. He lived in Nebraska for 15 years before being framed for a crime he didn't commit. Now he's heading to Utah in search of a new life. Currently, he's crossing  Wyoming to get to Utah.\n\n\"I can't believe I'm doing this,\" August said to himself as he rode through the desert. \"It feels like just yesterday that I left my home.\"\n\nHe had been living in Nebraska since he was young. It wasn't until he turned 16 that he decided to leave his parent's house and go live by himself. He found work at a ranch owned by an old man named Mr. Johnson who taught him how to ride horses. After working there for two years, August saved up enough money so he could buy his own horse. Years passed as he continued to work for Mr. Johnson. He was 26 and had finally saved enough money to buy his own land when one night he waltzed into a saloon. The next thing he knew, he woke up tied to a chair in a room full of men wearing black hats. They were all pointing guns at him. One of them walked over to August and pulled off his hat.\n\n\"You're under arrest for murder,\" the man said.\n\nAugust didn't know anything about any murders or why they would be arresting him if he hadn't done anything wrong. All he did was walk into a bar and drink some whiskey while playing poker with friends.\n\nHe was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He served 2 of those years before a huge jailbreak happened and he saw his chance to get out. He went back to his parent's house and they didn't want anything to do with him so he took his horse and left. He's 28 now and he has no idea who framed him and he has no intention of finding out. He just wants to start his new life in Utah.\n\n\"This place looks pretty nice,\" August said as he looked around.\n\nThe scenery was beautiful. There weren't many trees here but there were plenty of cacti. A few miles ahead was a small town called Fort Bridger. August wanted to stop and check it out.\n\n\"Morgan, let's head towards the fort,\" August said as he patted his horse on the neck.\n\nThey made their way closer to the town and stopped at a general store. August bought some supplies and then headed outside. He sat down against a wall and leaned his rifle across his lap. He noticed a woman walking past him and she smiled.\n\n\"Hello,\" the woman said.\n\n\"Hi,\" August replied.\n\nShe was tall and slender with long blonde hair. She wore a red dress that hugged her body perfectly. Her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at August.\n\n\"Are you going to the fort?\" the woman asked.\n\n\"Yes, I am,\" August answered.\n\n\"Well, I'll see you there,\" the woman said.\n\nAugust watched her walk away. He couldn't take his eyes off her. When he got to the fort, he saw the woman sitting on a bench talking to another woman. He approached them and introduced himself.\n\n\"I'm August,\" he said. \"You nice ladies wouldn't know if there happened to be a room to rent around here, would you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes!\" the other woman said. \"We have rooms available. We also offer meals and a bathhouse.\"\n\n\"That sounds wonderful,\" August said.\n\n\"Follow me,\" the first woman said.\n\nShe led August to a building where he paid for a room. Once he was settled in, he went downstairs to the dining hall. The food smelled delicious. He ordered a plate of beans, cornbread, and fried chicken. As soon as he finished eating, he went upstairs to his room. He opened his trunk and unpacked his belongings. That evening he lay in bed thinking about what he should do.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" August whispered to himself. \"You don't belong here.\"\n\nAs he drifted off to sleep, he heard a knock at his door. He rolled over and reached for his gun. He slowly stood up and peeked through the peephole. He recognized the woman standing outside his door.\n\n\"Come in,\" he said.\n\nThe woman entered his room and closed the door behind her. She walked over to his bed and sat down beside him.\n\n\"Do you mind if we talk?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, not at all,\" August said.\n\n\"My name is Mary Ann,\" the woman said. \"And I'm in trouble.\"",
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  {
    "id": "8167058533589479y44vzl",
    "summary": "In this story, August is a 28-year-old man who lived in Nebraska for 15 years before being framed for a murder he didn't commit. After serving two years in prison, he escaped during a jailbreak and decided to start a new life in Utah. He left his parents' house, taking his horse named Morgan with him.\n\nAs he traveled through Wyoming, he encountered a beautiful landscape with cacti and few trees. He stopped at a small town called Fort Bridger to buy supplies and rest. There, he met a tall, slender woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a red dress. The woman directed him to a place where he could rent a room and have meals.\n\nAfter settling in, August had dinner and returned to his room, feeling out of place. As he tried to sleep, he heard a knock on his door. It was the woman he had met earlier, who introduced herself as Mary Ann. She entered his room and told him that she was in trouble, setting the stage for the next part of August's adventure.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "August wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. His wide-brimmed hat mostly kept the sun out of his eyes but it still beat down on him hard. His unique wine-colored vest and chaps along with his cotton shirt and brown trousers didn't help either. On his trusty steed named Morgan, August is riding west. He lived in Nebraska for 15 years before being framed for a crime he didn't commit. Now he's heading to Utah in search of a new life. Currently, he's crossing  Wyoming to get to Utah.\n\n\"I can't believe I'm doing this,\" August said to himself as he rode through the desert. \"It feels like just yesterday that I left my home.\"\n\nHe had been living in Nebraska since he was young. It wasn't until he turned 16 that he decided to leave his parent's house and go live by himself. He found work at a ranch owned by an old man named Mr. Johnson who taught him how to ride horses. After working there for two years, August saved up enough money so he could buy his own horse. Years passed as he continued to work for Mr. Johnson. He was 26 and had finally saved enough money to buy his own land when one night he waltzed into a saloon. The next thing he knew, he woke up tied to a chair in a room full of men wearing black hats. They were all pointing guns at him. One of them walked over to August and pulled off his hat.\n\n\"You're under arrest for murder,\" the man said.\n\nAugust didn't know anything about any murders or why they would be arresting him if he hadn't done anything wrong. All he did was walk into a bar and drink some whiskey while playing poker with friends.\n\nHe was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He served 2 of those years before a huge jailbreak happened and he saw his chance to get out. He went back to his parent's house and they didn't want anything to do with him so he took his horse and left. He's 28 now and he has no idea who framed him and he has no intention of finding out. He just wants to start his new life in Utah.\n\n\"This place looks pretty nice,\" August said as he looked around.\n\nThe scenery was beautiful. There weren't many trees here but there were plenty of cacti. A few miles ahead was a small town called Fort Bridger. August wanted to stop and check it out.\n\n\"Morgan, let's head towards the fort,\" August said as he patted his horse on the neck.\n\nThey made their way closer to the town and stopped at a general store. August bought some supplies and then headed outside. He sat down against a wall and leaned his rifle across his lap. He noticed a woman walking past him and she smiled.\n\n\"Hello,\" the woman said.\n\n\"Hi,\" August replied.\n\nShe was tall and slender with long blonde hair. She wore a red dress that hugged her body perfectly. Her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at August.\n\n\"Are you going to the fort?\" the woman asked.\n\n\"Yes, I am,\" August answered.\n\n\"Well, I'll see you there,\" the woman said.\n\nAugust watched her walk away. He couldn't take his eyes off her. When he got to the fort, he saw the woman sitting on a bench talking to another woman. He approached them and introduced himself.\n\n\"I'm August,\" he said. \"You nice ladies wouldn't know if there happened to be a room to rent around here, would you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes!\" the other woman said. \"We have rooms available. We also offer meals and a bathhouse.\"\n\n\"That sounds wonderful,\" August said.\n\n\"Follow me,\" the first woman said.\n\nShe led August to a building where he paid for a room. Once he was settled in, he went downstairs to the dining hall. The food smelled delicious. He ordered a plate of beans, cornbread, and fried chicken. As soon as he finished eating, he went upstairs to his room. He opened his trunk and unpacked his belongings. That evening he lay in bed thinking about what he should do.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" August whispered to himself. \"You don't belong here.\"\n\nAs he drifted off to sleep, he heard a knock at his door. He rolled over and reached for his gun. He slowly stood up and peeked through the peephole. He recognized the woman standing outside his door.\n\n\"Come in,\" he said.\n\nThe woman entered his room and closed the door behind her. She walked over to his bed and sat down beside him.\n\n\"Do you mind if we talk?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, not at all,\" August said.\n\n\"My name is Mary Ann,\" the woman said. \"And I'm in trouble.\"",
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    "id": "7340915067632839473y44vzl",
    "summary": "\n\nAugust is a man who was framed for a crime and spent two years in prison. He is now travelling to Utah to start a new life when he stops at a town called Fort Bridger. He meets a woman named Mary Ann who helps him find a place to stay and they later talk about her being in trouble. ",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "August wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. His wide-brimmed hat mostly kept the sun out of his eyes but it still beat down on him hard. His unique wine-colored vest and chaps along with his cotton shirt and brown trousers didn't help either. On his trusty steed named Morgan, August is riding west. He lived in Nebraska for 15 years before being framed for a crime he didn't commit. Now he's heading to Utah in search of a new life. Currently, he's crossing  Wyoming to get to Utah.\n\n\"I can't believe I'm doing this,\" August said to himself as he rode through the desert. \"It feels like just yesterday that I left my home.\"\n\nHe had been living in Nebraska since he was young. It wasn't until he turned 16 that he decided to leave his parent's house and go live by himself. He found work at a ranch owned by an old man named Mr. Johnson who taught him how to ride horses. After working there for two years, August saved up enough money so he could buy his own horse. Years passed as he continued to work for Mr. Johnson. He was 26 and had finally saved enough money to buy his own land when one night he waltzed into a saloon. The next thing he knew, he woke up tied to a chair in a room full of men wearing black hats. They were all pointing guns at him. One of them walked over to August and pulled off his hat.\n\n\"You're under arrest for murder,\" the man said.\n\nAugust didn't know anything about any murders or why they would be arresting him if he hadn't done anything wrong. All he did was walk into a bar and drink some whiskey while playing poker with friends.\n\nHe was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He served 2 of those years before a huge jailbreak happened and he saw his chance to get out. He went back to his parent's house and they didn't want anything to do with him so he took his horse and left. He's 28 now and he has no idea who framed him and he has no intention of finding out. He just wants to start his new life in Utah.\n\n\"This place looks pretty nice,\" August said as he looked around.\n\nThe scenery was beautiful. There weren't many trees here but there were plenty of cacti. A few miles ahead was a small town called Fort Bridger. August wanted to stop and check it out.\n\n\"Morgan, let's head towards the fort,\" August said as he patted his horse on the neck.\n\nThey made their way closer to the town and stopped at a general store. August bought some supplies and then headed outside. He sat down against a wall and leaned his rifle across his lap. He noticed a woman walking past him and she smiled.\n\n\"Hello,\" the woman said.\n\n\"Hi,\" August replied.\n\nShe was tall and slender with long blonde hair. She wore a red dress that hugged her body perfectly. Her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at August.\n\n\"Are you going to the fort?\" the woman asked.\n\n\"Yes, I am,\" August answered.\n\n\"Well, I'll see you there,\" the woman said.\n\nAugust watched her walk away. He couldn't take his eyes off her. When he got to the fort, he saw the woman sitting on a bench talking to another woman. He approached them and introduced himself.\n\n\"I'm August,\" he said. \"You nice ladies wouldn't know if there happened to be a room to rent around here, would you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes!\" the other woman said. \"We have rooms available. We also offer meals and a bathhouse.\"\n\n\"That sounds wonderful,\" August said.\n\n\"Follow me,\" the first woman said.\n\nShe led August to a building where he paid for a room. Once he was settled in, he went downstairs to the dining hall. The food smelled delicious. He ordered a plate of beans, cornbread, and fried chicken. As soon as he finished eating, he went upstairs to his room. He opened his trunk and unpacked his belongings. That evening he lay in bed thinking about what he should do.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" August whispered to himself. \"You don't belong here.\"\n\nAs he drifted off to sleep, he heard a knock at his door. He rolled over and reached for his gun. He slowly stood up and peeked through the peephole. He recognized the woman standing outside his door.\n\n\"Come in,\" he said.\n\nThe woman entered his room and closed the door behind her. She walked over to his bed and sat down beside him.\n\n\"Do you mind if we talk?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, not at all,\" August said.\n\n\"My name is Mary Ann,\" the woman said. \"And I'm in trouble.\"",
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  {
    "id": "7911522387646974049yg4uzo",
    "summary": "The story revolves around the rumored \"Half Moon Killer,\" who is said to prey in East Los Angeles on half-moon nights. Despite skepticism from her friends Mike and Danielle, Karla, the narrator, feels there might be some truth to the tale. On their way home from a party on a half-moon night, they encounter a strangely dressed man on the road. This man, who turns out to be the Half Moon Killer, kills Mike and Danielle, while Karla manages to escape to a nearby convenience store. When the killer follows her to the store, Karla manages to overpower and kill him in self-defense. Two months later, Karla is hailed a hero for ending the Half Moon Killer's reign of terror. Immediately following, there is news of a possible \"Full Moon Killer,\" creating further suspense and fear in the city.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "*\u201cAnd tomorrow morning, we\u2019re airing our interview with an LAPD detective to get his take on the Half Moon Killer. Does he believe that there really is a serial killer who preys on the city every half moon? Will police discover new victims by the time the sun rises tomorrow? Find out tomorrow at seven.\u201d*\n\n\u201cWhat a load of bullshit.\u201d Mike said. He saw the look on my face and said \u201cWhat, you don\u2019t believe in that nonsense, do you Karla?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I said.\n\nFor almost a year, there had been reports of a serial killer who killed in various parts of East Los Angeles anytime there was a half moon. Personally, I didn\u2019t know what to make of it; it was strange, but this was Los Angeles, someone somewhere in the city was getting stabbed on a given night no matter what shape the moon was.\n\nAnyway, the three of us (Mike, Danielle, and I) were driving home that night, the night of a half moon, after spending time at a friend\u2019s party. Even though I thought there was some truth to The Halfmoon Killer, I still thought we were safe going home since we were driving.\n\nAnd then, there was a man on the road.\n\nMike stopped the car to avoid hitting him. \u201cHEY BUDDY, CAN YOU GET OFF THE STREET?\u201d He asked.\n\nThen, the man stepped forward. Once he was in the light of the car\u2019s headlights, we could see that he was dressed really odd; he wore a black tracksuit, with a bright white mask.\n\nHe pulled out a gun and shot the front two tires. He then put the gun away and pulled a knife; then he charged towards us.\n\n\u201cFUCK!\u201d Mike shouted as he rolled up his window and locked the doors, but that wasn\u2019t gonna stop the killer. The Halfmoon Killer broke through the window with his hand, grabbed Mike, and pulled him in closer, where he then stabbed his heart.\n\n\u201cNO!\u201d I screamed before frantically getting out of the car. Danielle followed suit, and we began running down the street.\n\nWe were in a commercial area of the city, one that had been closed for hours. Danielle and I ran around the outside of a closed Dollar Tree, hiding amongst the dumpsters.\n\nWe heard the killer stop moving. He didn\u2019t know where we were, but was clearly still searching. At that point, Danielle got out her phone and dialed 911.\n\n\u201c911, what is your emergency?\u201d we barely heard. The volume on her phone was set to almost nothing to avoid the killer hearing it. She even covered the screen so it wouldn't get seen.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re on Garcia avenue.\u201d She whispered. \u201cThe Halfmoon Killer, he\u2019s real, and he just killed our\u2026\u201d\n\nHe then found us. The Halfmoon Killer came charging, and got to Danielle before she could even stand up. He pinned her against a wall, and stabbed her right in the heart.\n\nI took off running. I lost him by turning the corner and dashing towards a nearby convenience store (literally the only place I saw whose lights were on).\n\n\u201cMiss, you okay?\u201d The cashier asked.\n\n\u201cHELP ME, PLEASE!\u201d I shouted. \u201cTHE HALFMOON KILLER, HE\u2019S REAL AND HE\u2019S\u2026\u201d\n\nMoments later, a bullet flew through the window and hit the cashier in the head.\n\n\u201cSHIT.\u201d I said as I ran into the aisles to take cover.\n\nThe killer walked in and said \u201cThe moon demands three sacrifices. All I need is to pierce your heart, and I will be finished for the night.\u201d\n\nI found myself next to a rack of beer packs. I carefully pulled out a bottle, stood up, and threw it at his head.\n\n\u201cOW!\u201d He shouted in pain. I then grabbed another bottle, ran up to him, and hit him on the head.\n\nHe fell and dropped the knife. I tried to run to grab it, but he grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me down with him.\n\nHe then started choking me. \u201cYou will be my sacrifice; the moon will get what it\u2019s owed.\u201d\n\nJust as I was losing consciousness, I felt where he was concealing his gun. I pulled it out, and shot him in the stomach.\n\n\u201cAAAHHH!\u201d he screamed in pain. I then crawled out from underneath him, and shot him one last time, in the head.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n*Two months later...*\n\n*\"And at 8, be sure to tune in to our special, The Halfmoon Killer: Terror of Los Angeles, where we get an exclusive interview from Karla Santacruz, the young woman who heroically stopped killer's rampage in a convenience store.\"*\n\n*\"And tomorrow, we talk to the Los Angeles PD about the Fullmoon Killer. Is he a copycat? Is he even real? Find out tomorrow at 9.\"*",
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    "id": "8167058533589479yg4uzo",
    "summary": "In the story, Karla, Mike, and Danielle are driving home from a party on the night of a half moon when they encounter a man dressed in a black tracksuit and a white mask. The man, believed to be the infamous Halfmoon Killer, shoots their car's tires and kills Mike. Karla and Danielle flee, hiding behind a Dollar Tree, but the killer finds them and kills Danielle. Karla escapes to a nearby convenience store, where the killer shoots the cashier. The killer catches Karla and begins to choke her, claiming that the moon demands three sacrifices. Karla manages to grab the killer's gun and shoots him, first in the stomach and then in the head, stopping his rampage. Two months later, a news report announces an exclusive interview with Karla about her heroic actions and mentions the emergence of a possible copycat killer, the Fullmoon Killer.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "*\u201cAnd tomorrow morning, we\u2019re airing our interview with an LAPD detective to get his take on the Half Moon Killer. Does he believe that there really is a serial killer who preys on the city every half moon? Will police discover new victims by the time the sun rises tomorrow? Find out tomorrow at seven.\u201d*\n\n\u201cWhat a load of bullshit.\u201d Mike said. He saw the look on my face and said \u201cWhat, you don\u2019t believe in that nonsense, do you Karla?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I said.\n\nFor almost a year, there had been reports of a serial killer who killed in various parts of East Los Angeles anytime there was a half moon. Personally, I didn\u2019t know what to make of it; it was strange, but this was Los Angeles, someone somewhere in the city was getting stabbed on a given night no matter what shape the moon was.\n\nAnyway, the three of us (Mike, Danielle, and I) were driving home that night, the night of a half moon, after spending time at a friend\u2019s party. Even though I thought there was some truth to The Halfmoon Killer, I still thought we were safe going home since we were driving.\n\nAnd then, there was a man on the road.\n\nMike stopped the car to avoid hitting him. \u201cHEY BUDDY, CAN YOU GET OFF THE STREET?\u201d He asked.\n\nThen, the man stepped forward. Once he was in the light of the car\u2019s headlights, we could see that he was dressed really odd; he wore a black tracksuit, with a bright white mask.\n\nHe pulled out a gun and shot the front two tires. He then put the gun away and pulled a knife; then he charged towards us.\n\n\u201cFUCK!\u201d Mike shouted as he rolled up his window and locked the doors, but that wasn\u2019t gonna stop the killer. The Halfmoon Killer broke through the window with his hand, grabbed Mike, and pulled him in closer, where he then stabbed his heart.\n\n\u201cNO!\u201d I screamed before frantically getting out of the car. Danielle followed suit, and we began running down the street.\n\nWe were in a commercial area of the city, one that had been closed for hours. Danielle and I ran around the outside of a closed Dollar Tree, hiding amongst the dumpsters.\n\nWe heard the killer stop moving. He didn\u2019t know where we were, but was clearly still searching. At that point, Danielle got out her phone and dialed 911.\n\n\u201c911, what is your emergency?\u201d we barely heard. The volume on her phone was set to almost nothing to avoid the killer hearing it. She even covered the screen so it wouldn't get seen.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re on Garcia avenue.\u201d She whispered. \u201cThe Halfmoon Killer, he\u2019s real, and he just killed our\u2026\u201d\n\nHe then found us. The Halfmoon Killer came charging, and got to Danielle before she could even stand up. He pinned her against a wall, and stabbed her right in the heart.\n\nI took off running. I lost him by turning the corner and dashing towards a nearby convenience store (literally the only place I saw whose lights were on).\n\n\u201cMiss, you okay?\u201d The cashier asked.\n\n\u201cHELP ME, PLEASE!\u201d I shouted. \u201cTHE HALFMOON KILLER, HE\u2019S REAL AND HE\u2019S\u2026\u201d\n\nMoments later, a bullet flew through the window and hit the cashier in the head.\n\n\u201cSHIT.\u201d I said as I ran into the aisles to take cover.\n\nThe killer walked in and said \u201cThe moon demands three sacrifices. All I need is to pierce your heart, and I will be finished for the night.\u201d\n\nI found myself next to a rack of beer packs. I carefully pulled out a bottle, stood up, and threw it at his head.\n\n\u201cOW!\u201d He shouted in pain. I then grabbed another bottle, ran up to him, and hit him on the head.\n\nHe fell and dropped the knife. I tried to run to grab it, but he grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me down with him.\n\nHe then started choking me. \u201cYou will be my sacrifice; the moon will get what it\u2019s owed.\u201d\n\nJust as I was losing consciousness, I felt where he was concealing his gun. I pulled it out, and shot him in the stomach.\n\n\u201cAAAHHH!\u201d he screamed in pain. I then crawled out from underneath him, and shot him one last time, in the head.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n*Two months later...*\n\n*\"And at 8, be sure to tune in to our special, The Halfmoon Killer: Terror of Los Angeles, where we get an exclusive interview from Karla Santacruz, the young woman who heroically stopped killer's rampage in a convenience store.\"*\n\n*\"And tomorrow, we talk to the Los Angeles PD about the Fullmoon Killer. Is he a copycat? Is he even real? Find out tomorrow at 9.\"*",
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    "id": "7340915067632839473yg4uzo",
    "summary": " The story follows three friends who encounter a real-life serial killer known as the Halfmoon Killer. The friends are attacked and two of them are killed, but the third manages to bravely defend herself and stop the killer's rampage. Two months later, she shares her story in an exclusive interview. The media is also covering another potential serial killer known as the Fullmoon Killer.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "*\u201cAnd tomorrow morning, we\u2019re airing our interview with an LAPD detective to get his take on the Half Moon Killer. Does he believe that there really is a serial killer who preys on the city every half moon? Will police discover new victims by the time the sun rises tomorrow? Find out tomorrow at seven.\u201d*\n\n\u201cWhat a load of bullshit.\u201d Mike said. He saw the look on my face and said \u201cWhat, you don\u2019t believe in that nonsense, do you Karla?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I said.\n\nFor almost a year, there had been reports of a serial killer who killed in various parts of East Los Angeles anytime there was a half moon. Personally, I didn\u2019t know what to make of it; it was strange, but this was Los Angeles, someone somewhere in the city was getting stabbed on a given night no matter what shape the moon was.\n\nAnyway, the three of us (Mike, Danielle, and I) were driving home that night, the night of a half moon, after spending time at a friend\u2019s party. Even though I thought there was some truth to The Halfmoon Killer, I still thought we were safe going home since we were driving.\n\nAnd then, there was a man on the road.\n\nMike stopped the car to avoid hitting him. \u201cHEY BUDDY, CAN YOU GET OFF THE STREET?\u201d He asked.\n\nThen, the man stepped forward. Once he was in the light of the car\u2019s headlights, we could see that he was dressed really odd; he wore a black tracksuit, with a bright white mask.\n\nHe pulled out a gun and shot the front two tires. He then put the gun away and pulled a knife; then he charged towards us.\n\n\u201cFUCK!\u201d Mike shouted as he rolled up his window and locked the doors, but that wasn\u2019t gonna stop the killer. The Halfmoon Killer broke through the window with his hand, grabbed Mike, and pulled him in closer, where he then stabbed his heart.\n\n\u201cNO!\u201d I screamed before frantically getting out of the car. Danielle followed suit, and we began running down the street.\n\nWe were in a commercial area of the city, one that had been closed for hours. Danielle and I ran around the outside of a closed Dollar Tree, hiding amongst the dumpsters.\n\nWe heard the killer stop moving. He didn\u2019t know where we were, but was clearly still searching. At that point, Danielle got out her phone and dialed 911.\n\n\u201c911, what is your emergency?\u201d we barely heard. The volume on her phone was set to almost nothing to avoid the killer hearing it. She even covered the screen so it wouldn't get seen.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re on Garcia avenue.\u201d She whispered. \u201cThe Halfmoon Killer, he\u2019s real, and he just killed our\u2026\u201d\n\nHe then found us. The Halfmoon Killer came charging, and got to Danielle before she could even stand up. He pinned her against a wall, and stabbed her right in the heart.\n\nI took off running. I lost him by turning the corner and dashing towards a nearby convenience store (literally the only place I saw whose lights were on).\n\n\u201cMiss, you okay?\u201d The cashier asked.\n\n\u201cHELP ME, PLEASE!\u201d I shouted. \u201cTHE HALFMOON KILLER, HE\u2019S REAL AND HE\u2019S\u2026\u201d\n\nMoments later, a bullet flew through the window and hit the cashier in the head.\n\n\u201cSHIT.\u201d I said as I ran into the aisles to take cover.\n\nThe killer walked in and said \u201cThe moon demands three sacrifices. All I need is to pierce your heart, and I will be finished for the night.\u201d\n\nI found myself next to a rack of beer packs. I carefully pulled out a bottle, stood up, and threw it at his head.\n\n\u201cOW!\u201d He shouted in pain. I then grabbed another bottle, ran up to him, and hit him on the head.\n\nHe fell and dropped the knife. I tried to run to grab it, but he grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me down with him.\n\nHe then started choking me. \u201cYou will be my sacrifice; the moon will get what it\u2019s owed.\u201d\n\nJust as I was losing consciousness, I felt where he was concealing his gun. I pulled it out, and shot him in the stomach.\n\n\u201cAAAHHH!\u201d he screamed in pain. I then crawled out from underneath him, and shot him one last time, in the head.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n*Two months later...*\n\n*\"And at 8, be sure to tune in to our special, The Halfmoon Killer: Terror of Los Angeles, where we get an exclusive interview from Karla Santacruz, the young woman who heroically stopped killer's rampage in a convenience store.\"*\n\n*\"And tomorrow, we talk to the Los Angeles PD about the Fullmoon Killer. Is he a copycat? Is he even real? Find out tomorrow at 9.\"*",
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    "id": "7911522387646974049ypukwu",
    "summary": "An elderly artist named Cosmo creates a stunning painting at a seaside as he enjoys serene surroundings. A younger man named Mark drops by, who engages in a philosophical dialogue about the inevitable end of life. Once the painting is finished, despite Mark's appreciation for the art, Cosmo sets the masterpiece on fire. He explains that life matters because it only lasts for a while. The beauty of the painting, like life, isn't diminished by its short existence but is made more impactful. He compares the life cycle to the waves crashing against the rocks; each wave has their moment of glory before settling back into the sea. Mark finally understands Cosmo's perspective, realizing that life consists of little ephemeral moments that make it worthwhile.",
    "model": "gpt-4",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nCrooked fingers shakily grasped a paint brush. Atop a hill overlooking a tranquil cove, he sat. despite the tremble in his now ancient grasp, the painter delivered masterful brush strokes. Each time the bristles lapped against white cloth, a piece of himself travelled across the canvas. The steady sea breeze blew his thinning hair back, and the salt-sprayed onto his pores. Never before had he known such peace. \n\nThe violent crashing of wave against rock, the melody of seagulls soaring overhead, the slow marching onward of clouds, it was a perfect evening. The once yellow sun now burned orange as it slowly hid its face from view. The sky itself was beginning to yawn and show new colors as day transitioned into night. Slowly, as he laid paint on canvas, the scene became indistinguishable from the painting the man sat in front of. \n\nA cloud of smoke leaked from a young pair of lips.\n\n\u201cI thought you gave up painting Cosmo.\u201d A familiar voice broke through the air. The young man pulled again from the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. \n\n\u201cAnd I thought I told you that those things will kill you.\u201d the old man replied with a voice scarred from years of use. The young man briefly raised his shoulders in apathetic protest, and contnued to smoke. \n\n\u201cYes, but it was also you that taught me that all things end. If I\u2019m going to die one day, what does it matter?\u201d he replied. \n\n\u201cThat wasn\u2019t what I hoped you\u2019d learned from the lesson Mark.\u201d He replied with a voice tinged in dissapointment. His trembling hand laid one last stroke of paint on the canvas before he put the brush down. The two men sat in silence admiring the work Cosmo had done. The painting was nothing short of a masterpiece. The old man had dipped a paintbrush into his own heart and painted his very essence onto a canvas. The strokes of his brush and the strategically placed combination of colors created something more beautiful than the location itself.\n\n\u201cCosmo, it\u2019s amazing.\u201d Mark said, awestruck, as he placed a hand on Cosmo\u2019s shoulder. \n\n\u201cI never thought I would be able to hold a brush again. After that first brush stroke, it was like I never stopped.\u201d The man smiled, and a tear rolled down his cheek. \n\n\u201cWithout a doubt, it\u2019s your most beautiful work.\u201d Mark said. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you like it.\u201d Cosmo\u2019s crooked, wrinkled fingers fished a metallic rectangle from his pocket. He flicked the lighter open and held the flame to the edge of the painting. Orange flames began to creep up the edges of the painting, producing a hauntingly beautiful glow of orange.\n\n\u201cHey! What are you doing? That belonged in a museum. It deserved to be studied.\u201d Mark said frustrated. Cosmo\u2019s wrinkled mouth cracked into a smile as he looked up at Mark then back to the burning easel. \n\n In the brief moments of pure destruction, coupled with the harmony of nature around them, a secret hidden beauty that few men ever see was revealed. The painting was destroyed. For the few seconds that it was engulfed in flames, the two men observed an image more enchanting than both the painting and the scene itself. \n\n\u201cIt\u2019s what I was trying to teach you.\u201d Mark looked at him confused. \u201cLife is not meaningless because it is short. Quite the opposite. Life matters because it only lasts for so long. The painting was beautiful, yes, but what was even more beautiful were the moments when flames danced off the edges of the canvas. It created something else, a different form of art entirely. Now, its gone. It only lives on in our memories. The painting may have only existed for a brief moment, but it made an impact, and it was beautiful. \u201d Cosmo said as he gazed out towards the waters. \"In the grand scheme of time, our lives are but a blink, a tear dropped in the ocean. The brevity of life, tragic as it may be , is what makes living magical.\" Mark said nothing. He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and flung it over the side of the cliff. The two men sat in contemplation for a moment. \n\n\u201cLife is made of these little moments. Nothing lasts, and that is what makes them worth while.\u201d Mark said wistfully. \n\n\u201cNow you understand.\u201d Cosmo said with a smile in his voice. The two men observed the crashing of the waves. Each one forming a crescendo, slamming into the side of rocks, and dissipating back into the sea, never to be seen again.",
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    "id": "8167058533589479ypukwu",
    "summary": "In this story, an elderly painter named Cosmo sits atop a hill overlooking a tranquil cove, painting a masterpiece that captures the essence of the beautiful scene before him. A young man named Mark, who is smoking a cigarette, approaches Cosmo and expresses surprise that he has returned to painting.\n\nAs they admire the completed painting, Cosmo unexpectedly sets it on fire. Mark is initially frustrated, believing that the painting deserved to be preserved and studied. However, Cosmo explains that the brief moment of the painting's destruction reveals a hidden beauty that few people ever witness.\n\nCosmo uses this moment to teach Mark a valuable lesson about the meaning of life. He emphasizes that life is precious because it is short, and that the brevity of existence is what makes living magical. He compares life to the burning painting, suggesting that the fleeting nature of beautiful moments is what makes them impactful and worthwhile.\n\nInspired by Cosmo's words, Mark discards his cigarette and comes to understand that life is made up of these transient moments. The two men sit together, contemplating the crashing waves and the ephemeral nature of existence.",
    "model": "claude",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nCrooked fingers shakily grasped a paint brush. Atop a hill overlooking a tranquil cove, he sat. despite the tremble in his now ancient grasp, the painter delivered masterful brush strokes. Each time the bristles lapped against white cloth, a piece of himself travelled across the canvas. The steady sea breeze blew his thinning hair back, and the salt-sprayed onto his pores. Never before had he known such peace. \n\nThe violent crashing of wave against rock, the melody of seagulls soaring overhead, the slow marching onward of clouds, it was a perfect evening. The once yellow sun now burned orange as it slowly hid its face from view. The sky itself was beginning to yawn and show new colors as day transitioned into night. Slowly, as he laid paint on canvas, the scene became indistinguishable from the painting the man sat in front of. \n\nA cloud of smoke leaked from a young pair of lips.\n\n\u201cI thought you gave up painting Cosmo.\u201d A familiar voice broke through the air. The young man pulled again from the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. \n\n\u201cAnd I thought I told you that those things will kill you.\u201d the old man replied with a voice scarred from years of use. The young man briefly raised his shoulders in apathetic protest, and contnued to smoke. \n\n\u201cYes, but it was also you that taught me that all things end. If I\u2019m going to die one day, what does it matter?\u201d he replied. \n\n\u201cThat wasn\u2019t what I hoped you\u2019d learned from the lesson Mark.\u201d He replied with a voice tinged in dissapointment. His trembling hand laid one last stroke of paint on the canvas before he put the brush down. The two men sat in silence admiring the work Cosmo had done. The painting was nothing short of a masterpiece. The old man had dipped a paintbrush into his own heart and painted his very essence onto a canvas. The strokes of his brush and the strategically placed combination of colors created something more beautiful than the location itself.\n\n\u201cCosmo, it\u2019s amazing.\u201d Mark said, awestruck, as he placed a hand on Cosmo\u2019s shoulder. \n\n\u201cI never thought I would be able to hold a brush again. After that first brush stroke, it was like I never stopped.\u201d The man smiled, and a tear rolled down his cheek. \n\n\u201cWithout a doubt, it\u2019s your most beautiful work.\u201d Mark said. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you like it.\u201d Cosmo\u2019s crooked, wrinkled fingers fished a metallic rectangle from his pocket. He flicked the lighter open and held the flame to the edge of the painting. Orange flames began to creep up the edges of the painting, producing a hauntingly beautiful glow of orange.\n\n\u201cHey! What are you doing? That belonged in a museum. It deserved to be studied.\u201d Mark said frustrated. Cosmo\u2019s wrinkled mouth cracked into a smile as he looked up at Mark then back to the burning easel. \n\n In the brief moments of pure destruction, coupled with the harmony of nature around them, a secret hidden beauty that few men ever see was revealed. The painting was destroyed. For the few seconds that it was engulfed in flames, the two men observed an image more enchanting than both the painting and the scene itself. \n\n\u201cIt\u2019s what I was trying to teach you.\u201d Mark looked at him confused. \u201cLife is not meaningless because it is short. Quite the opposite. Life matters because it only lasts for so long. The painting was beautiful, yes, but what was even more beautiful were the moments when flames danced off the edges of the canvas. It created something else, a different form of art entirely. Now, its gone. It only lives on in our memories. The painting may have only existed for a brief moment, but it made an impact, and it was beautiful. \u201d Cosmo said as he gazed out towards the waters. \"In the grand scheme of time, our lives are but a blink, a tear dropped in the ocean. The brevity of life, tragic as it may be , is what makes living magical.\" Mark said nothing. He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and flung it over the side of the cliff. The two men sat in contemplation for a moment. \n\n\u201cLife is made of these little moments. Nothing lasts, and that is what makes them worth while.\u201d Mark said wistfully. \n\n\u201cNow you understand.\u201d Cosmo said with a smile in his voice. The two men observed the crashing of the waves. Each one forming a crescendo, slamming into the side of rocks, and dissipating back into the sea, never to be seen again.",
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    "id": "7340915067632839473ypukwu",
    "summary": " An old painter teaches a young man about the beauty of life and the importance of living in the moment. The painter creates a masterpiece and then burns it, showing the young man that the brevity of life is what makes it beautiful. The two men sit in contemplation and observe the fleeting moments of nature, coming to a deeper understanding of the meaning of life.",
    "model": "gpt-3.5-turbo-instruct",
    "source": "expanded",
    "story": "  \n\nCrooked fingers shakily grasped a paint brush. Atop a hill overlooking a tranquil cove, he sat. despite the tremble in his now ancient grasp, the painter delivered masterful brush strokes. Each time the bristles lapped against white cloth, a piece of himself travelled across the canvas. The steady sea breeze blew his thinning hair back, and the salt-sprayed onto his pores. Never before had he known such peace. \n\nThe violent crashing of wave against rock, the melody of seagulls soaring overhead, the slow marching onward of clouds, it was a perfect evening. The once yellow sun now burned orange as it slowly hid its face from view. The sky itself was beginning to yawn and show new colors as day transitioned into night. Slowly, as he laid paint on canvas, the scene became indistinguishable from the painting the man sat in front of. \n\nA cloud of smoke leaked from a young pair of lips.\n\n\u201cI thought you gave up painting Cosmo.\u201d A familiar voice broke through the air. The young man pulled again from the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. \n\n\u201cAnd I thought I told you that those things will kill you.\u201d the old man replied with a voice scarred from years of use. The young man briefly raised his shoulders in apathetic protest, and contnued to smoke. \n\n\u201cYes, but it was also you that taught me that all things end. If I\u2019m going to die one day, what does it matter?\u201d he replied. \n\n\u201cThat wasn\u2019t what I hoped you\u2019d learned from the lesson Mark.\u201d He replied with a voice tinged in dissapointment. His trembling hand laid one last stroke of paint on the canvas before he put the brush down. The two men sat in silence admiring the work Cosmo had done. The painting was nothing short of a masterpiece. The old man had dipped a paintbrush into his own heart and painted his very essence onto a canvas. The strokes of his brush and the strategically placed combination of colors created something more beautiful than the location itself.\n\n\u201cCosmo, it\u2019s amazing.\u201d Mark said, awestruck, as he placed a hand on Cosmo\u2019s shoulder. \n\n\u201cI never thought I would be able to hold a brush again. After that first brush stroke, it was like I never stopped.\u201d The man smiled, and a tear rolled down his cheek. \n\n\u201cWithout a doubt, it\u2019s your most beautiful work.\u201d Mark said. \n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you like it.\u201d Cosmo\u2019s crooked, wrinkled fingers fished a metallic rectangle from his pocket. He flicked the lighter open and held the flame to the edge of the painting. Orange flames began to creep up the edges of the painting, producing a hauntingly beautiful glow of orange.\n\n\u201cHey! What are you doing? That belonged in a museum. It deserved to be studied.\u201d Mark said frustrated. Cosmo\u2019s wrinkled mouth cracked into a smile as he looked up at Mark then back to the burning easel. \n\n In the brief moments of pure destruction, coupled with the harmony of nature around them, a secret hidden beauty that few men ever see was revealed. The painting was destroyed. For the few seconds that it was engulfed in flames, the two men observed an image more enchanting than both the painting and the scene itself. \n\n\u201cIt\u2019s what I was trying to teach you.\u201d Mark looked at him confused. \u201cLife is not meaningless because it is short. Quite the opposite. Life matters because it only lasts for so long. The painting was beautiful, yes, but what was even more beautiful were the moments when flames danced off the edges of the canvas. It created something else, a different form of art entirely. Now, its gone. It only lives on in our memories. The painting may have only existed for a brief moment, but it made an impact, and it was beautiful. \u201d Cosmo said as he gazed out towards the waters. \"In the grand scheme of time, our lives are but a blink, a tear dropped in the ocean. The brevity of life, tragic as it may be , is what makes living magical.\" Mark said nothing. He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and flung it over the side of the cliff. The two men sat in contemplation for a moment. \n\n\u201cLife is made of these little moments. Nothing lasts, and that is what makes them worth while.\u201d Mark said wistfully. \n\n\u201cNow you understand.\u201d Cosmo said with a smile in his voice. The two men observed the crashing of the waves. Each one forming a crescendo, slamming into the side of rocks, and dissipating back into the sea, never to be seen again.",
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    "gold_annotations": [
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