Emma (not explicit but cheeky)

[Cherie]

I got AI to write a story then edited it. See if you can work out which bits are which…

In the vibrant city of Bluelake, constructed for the purpose of this story, lived a cheerful girl named Emma. She had a radiant smile that could light up the darkest of days, and she was known for her quirky sense of style. Among her favorite pieces of clothing was a bright, plastic jelly jacket that she had found in a vintage shop. The jacket was translucent with splashes of pink, yellow, and blue, resembling a kaleidoscope. The cuffs and waist were elasticated with a stretchy material that had band of colour reflecting the colours of the PVC material. Her collar was similarly of the same material, but not elastic, with a zip from hem to chin. She zipped it slowly as she stood in front of the mirror, finding being inside the shiny material somewhat exciting for reasons she could not understand,

It was a rainy afternoon, so dressed appropriately, Emma decided to take a stroll through Bluelake’s bustling market, just because she could; she had nowhere particular to be and nothing to buy. She loved how the market came alive in the rain, with the glistening paths reflecting the neon signs from the shops around and the sound of raindrops on the canvas covers of the stalls creating a soothing symphony. Emma stroked the arms of her beloved jelly jacket whilst still dry, which not only kept her from the wet but also added a splash of colour to the otherwise grey, rainy day.

As she walked through the market, Emma noticed people smiling as she passed by.
“That will be Mr Gangee selling his dodgy concoction of spices giving everyone mild hallucinations”, she thought to herself, and why her jelly jacket seemed to have a magical effect, bringing a bit of sunshine to everyone around her. Children pointed and giggled (even they succumbed to the cheerful Indian traders mildly weed laden home made sherbet dib dabs), enchanted by the jacket’s vibrant hues, while adults exchanged smiles, feeling a bit of their childhood joy rekindled by the sight, except Mr. Stains, with his hands firmly planted in his thin, grey, pacamac pockets, he eyed Emma with even more lust than he normally did.

Emma stopped at a small flower stall where an elderly woman named Mrs. Hargrove sold the most beautiful blooms. “You always bring a rainbow with you, my dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said, handing Emma a bright orange marigold as a gift. Emma blushed, her heart warmed by the kind gesture, but more embarrassed because she had forgotten to bring an actual rainbow on this occasion.

Further along, she met Mr. Thompson, a local artist who was setting up his easel to paint the rainy scene. “Emma, you’re just what I needed for my painting today,” he exclaimed. He quickly sketched her standing in the rain, the jelly jacket glowing against the muted background. Emma stood still, feeling like a muse, her jacket transforming her into a living work of art.
“I’m sorry”, she told Mr.Thompson, “I have to leave now as I must get back to make the tea”. It was of course a lie as Emma had spotted that the artist had in fact drawn her in what looked like a brothel and neglected to draw in the clothes on her apart from the plastic jacket.

By the time Emma reached the park, the rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. She sat on a bench under an old oak tree, enjoying the cool, fresh air. A little girl in a yellow raincoat approached her, eyes wide with admiration. “I love your jacket,” the girl said shyly. Emma smiled and bent down to the girl’s level. “Thank you! It’s my favorite because it makes rainy days feel like sunshine.”
“Give it to me”, the girl insisted.
“What?”, exclaimed Emma.
“I want it, give it to me now”
“No”, said Emma firmly, “you can’t have it”.
The mother dragged the girl away muttering something about how Emma was a horrid person, and Mummy would make everything right with an extra £100 in her pocket money.

The girl’s grand mother, who had been watching nearby, approached and thanked Emma for brightening their day. “Sometimes, all you need is a little color to see the beauty around you,” Emma replied, “but you have some seriously rude family there”.
“I know”, sighed the old lady, “but don’t worry my husband is planning on murdering them in their sleep once we get our hands on my son-in-laws fortune”.
The old lady smiled and stroked Emma’s arm, “you need to get yourself a man young lady, shouldn’t be too difficult to find a bloke with a fetish for a nice plastic raincoat, even I’m feeling a bit turned on, and my system down there hasn’t stirred since the coronation”.
“Charles?”, Emma enquired.
“Elizabeth”, she smirked as she walked off.

As the rain clouds began to part, revealing patches of blue sky, Emma continued her walk home. Her heart was full, knowing that her simple joy in wearing her plastic jelly jacket had brought a little happiness to those around her. In Bluelake, Emma was known as the girl who made rainy days brighter, her colourful jacket a symbol of her vibrant spirit and the joy she spread wherever she went. Many men, and some of the girls, secretly got off on her cheerful smile and the fact that she tended to wear very tight blouses and always seemed to have hard nipples. And so, with each rainy day that followed, Emma wore her jelly jacket with pride, continuing to bring smiles and a touch of magic to her beloved city, who secretly lusted after he without her having a clue.


Cherie

[mason]

To be honest, this story didn't work for me - it was somewhat confusingly all over the place.

There is really no substitute for the human touch in writing.

AI has many uses, but it will never replace that

[Cherie]

When somebody(thing) writes a story you have no control over the path it takes from start to end. All I did was to read sections and embellish, but as you can see, the result is just a collection of sub-stories without flow. What I have noticed with AI stories is that they have a start, middle, and end, but the start is 5%, end 5% and the middle is 90% and relies on over-use of imagery to keep the attention as it sends its way rambling from start to end.

These are interesting exercises, and fun for the creator to play with, but all falls a bit flat for the general reader.

Cherie x