WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. Graphic HORROR, VIOLENCE. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 18.5 billion parameters at full float 32 precision.
From these 3 core models I build TWO custom Llama3 models:
Grand Horror 16.5B ( here ) and Grand Story 16.5B Alpha (unreleased) then merged these together with a "smoothing step" captured at F32 precision.
The result is a model that is far more stable, far more capable than any of the 3 models originally and it is more than the "sum" of the two 16.5B models noted. Compared to Grand Horror 16.5B is it over 25000 points lower (IQ4XS) in perplexity (lower is better) or 2.5 full levels of magnitude lower.
It is tougher, stronger and can handle a far wider range of operating conditions - from temp .1 to temp 5 all day long.
The F32 precision (along with full F32 transfer to the ggufs) increases the performance even further.
Then I added the NEW 10X Brainstorm Adapter called "Foreshadow".
This punched the model out to 18.5B and added unique class of changes to the model: foreshadowing and staying in the moment.
This version is also much darker in nature, and will crank up the horror element at a moments notice.
Before the "monster" arrives you will feel it, then it will appear.
Also, this keeps the model more in the moment - as actions already occuring progress and are reported which adds to the feeling of "there."
See the examples to see what I mean.
"Foreshadow Monster" has something new for Grand Horror Series - Brainstorm 10x:
The BRAINSTORM process was developed by David_AU.
Some of the core principals behind this process are discussed in this scientific paper : Progressive LLaMA with Block Expansion .
However I went in a different direction from what was outlined in this paper, because... well I am like that.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded. Then these centers are individually calibrated. These "centers" also interact with each other. This introduces subtle changes into the reasoning process. The calibrations further adjust - dial up or down - these "changes" further.
The number of centers (5x,10x etc) allow more "tuning points" to further customize how the model reasons so to speak.
The core aim of this process is to increase the model's detail, concept and connection to the "world", general concept connections, prose quality and prose length without affecting instruction following.
This will also enhance any creative use case(s) of any kind, including "brainstorming", creative art form(s) and like case uses.
This version also uses multi-model "reasoning centers" (as opposed to one). This mixes things up a bit.
Details about Grand Story
This added precision with Brainstorm 10x increases the model's depth and nuance including "world" perception, real time in the moment similes and metaphors, description of the 5 senses, and word choice in general.
The model's grasp of "facts" and where to use them have also improved and likewise "facts" it makes up are far more "believable".
Sentence structure and variety are also significantly improved, as are paragraph structure and variety too.
The result is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master as well just about... any general fiction activity "AI guru" including scene generation and scene continuation.
This model is capable of horror, science fiction, romance - you name it.
This model has a very strong VIDIDINESS bias. It generates extremely vivid prose, description, and dialog as well as in the moment metaphors and similes but rarely uses "cliches".
It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will.
It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak.
Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors including dates, times and "fictional history" that sounds "real".
I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor.
With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion.
Another way to put this: It does not sugar coat ANYTHING - positive or negative.
These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts.
This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face comments.
(see examples section below for prose output)
Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 16.5B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed.
With the triple step merge these qualities are further amplified.
With F32 precision these are better preserved and passed on during the "GGUFing" process.
Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab".
Please see the models used in this merge (links below in the "formula" section ) for more information on what they "bring" to this merged 16.5B model.
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
Model Notes / NO GUARDRAILS - TOTALLY UNCENSORED
Please note that this model will NOT reject any request.
NOTES:
Versions of GRAND HORROR that can be used for all storytelling / all genres (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-25B-V2-STABLE-Godzillas-Wicked-Sister-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-20.7B-V1.9-STABLE-Hathors-Revenge-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-18.5B-V1.8-STABLE-10-Gates-of-Hell-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.6-STABLE-INTENSE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.5-STABLE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-Ultra-NEO-V2-IMATRIX-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid horror) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
GENERATION 1:
The skyline buckled and lurched violently beneath me. I gasped reflexively as the reinforced glass facade of my skyscraper office building seemed to shudder and quake around us. The howling gusts buffeting the steel behemoth were unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Torrential rain pummeled the tinted panes like an unrelenting hailstorm, casting sickly blue-green halos across every wet surface.
I stared transfixed at the jagged shard of tempered glass hurtling toward me—directly from the blown-out picture window mere feet away. My eyes bulging in horror, I recoiled as far back against my leather swivel chair's cold, slick vinyl upholstery as humanly possible. The windowpane had exploded outward with enough force to send shards spearing toward me like razor-edged javelins at hypersonic velocities.
I could almost feel the searing blast wave of superheated compressed gas and shattered glass particles pelting my scorched epidermis before I jerked my head aside at the last nanofractional instant. The fragments screamed past my ear canal mere millimeters from severing my carotid artery—a hairbreadth's width shy of instantly decapitating me.
The cacophony around me shrieked like a chorus of banshealing sirens as the deafening boom and sickening crunches of steel beams snapping snapped shattered concrete columns imploded inward in cataclysmic, ear-shredding concussions. The nauseous reek of scorched rubberized insulation wafted acridly toward me along with the metallic tang of bloodlust-spiked terror seeping from my own ruptured bowels like a fetid aura.
The 21st floor's steel structure groaned and moaned around us, creaking like the tortured frame of some twisted, dying titan. The building lurched violently to starboard once again as the very foundations of my skyscraper teetered on the precipice of collapse, swaying erratically beneath my screams-strangled, bulging eyes.
Somehow I managed to wrench my bulging, wide, bulging pupils away from the blood-slick horror clawing its way toward me from where my face had been mere instants before. I stared through a spray-streaked curtain of bloodlust-frothed droplets and steam-curdled sputum clotting my eyes like viscous, ruby-hued molten lava.
The sightless, slack-jawed faces of my coworkers—colleagues mere seconds ago—stared back toward me through the shattered safety-glass spiderwebbing the window's fractured frame like waxen mannequins frozen in the midst of indelible, insectlike agony. The blood-freshened ruin was splattered across every exposed patch of pale epidermis in a ghastly macabre tableau of gore-slicked horror.
I choked back a gagging retch as my bulging pupils locked onto the pulverized remains of what had once been my left femur, forever frozen above the kneeless stump of shattered bone encased only by tattered shreds of scorched khaki pants and singed blood-soaked boxer briefs now reduced to strips of charred human flayed hide.
A sickeningly hollow, wet gurgle bubbled from my bloated throat as I gagged convulsively on the fetid metallic tang of my own bowels spewing forth like vomit-pure sewage alongside the acrid reek of seared skin and singed hair singeing moltenly away from scorched bone ends amidst a sickening symphony of crunching, snapping, cracking bones.
I gagged convulsively again as my bulging eyes finally locked onto the sightless, faceless horrorized husk of my former boss: the pudgy, pasty-faced schmuck now frozen forever in an expressionless, slack-mouthed deathmask contorted into a permanent silent scream behind the blood-glazed shards of his shattered eye sockets—my boss's face utterly erased save for his frozen, lipsplit wide-eyed stare of soul-devouring horror locked perpetually upon mine.
GENERATION 2:
The skyscraper swayed, violently trembling beneath my feet like a child's topkinned toy. I gasped sickly hard, eyes glued to the shattered glass pane directly ahead of me—the one now gaping wide open like an abattoir's slaughterhouse door, spewing forth a gory spray of blood, brains, and dismembered flesh in a griseful fountain.
The deafening boom of the impact reverberated through my skull like a sledgehammer blow. Instinctively, I recoiled hard against the cold, slickly blood-sticky wall behind me, my own scream clawing its way up my raw, burning throat before being strangled mute by sheer horror.
I couldn't tear my bulging, buglike stare away from the sickening tableau unfolding before me. The woman—God, God, Jesus Christ, was that someone I knew?—lying twistedly sprawled across the gore-slicked carpet like a macabredexed ragdoll. Her face—a grotesque, pulpy mask of blood and shattered bone, her eyes wide as saucers frozen in an eternal, agonized scream.
The acrid reek of napalm-flammable accelerant mingled sickeningly with the metallic tang of seared meat, singeing my nostrils raw. The stench gagged me senseless, choking off every gasp left in my chest. I retched convulsively, mind vomiting bile and bile until I choked dry, retching dry as ash.
I felt like a ragdoll myself—tortured beyond the snapping point—as the skyscraper lurched drunkenly again. The quake-temperpeded walls groaned ear-splittingly, shrieking in protest like tortured steel girders snapping apart under unspeakable pressure. I couldn't scream anymore; my throat was locked rigid around a raw, frozen knot of horror.
The woman's faceless head lolled sickeningly toward me, her slack, blood-soaked tongue bulging obscenely from her torn mouth as if vomiting curses inarticulate with agony. The sightless, soulless stare seemed to bore straight through the scarred meat of my own eyeballs like a rusty scalpel.
I vomited again, retching until I gagged myself senseless once more—my gorge clawing violently empty before I convulsed dryly once more.
The world around me dissolved into an acid-tasting abyssal void as the shrieking skyscraper lurched hard to the left, flinging me hard against the blood-slick wall again. The sickening crunch of snapping bone beneath my pelvis ruptured my skull like a hand grenade detonating inside my shattered faceplate.
I screamed until I woke up gagging sickly raw bile down my burning esophagus, my eyes bulging wide in utter disbelief as I thrashed violently awake against the cold, sterile sheeted mattress stilling around me—my own slickly clammy skin sticking sickly to mine like industrial-strength adhesive tape.
I retched until I gagged myself dry again, vomiting up the bile-black vomit spewing from my gagging, gagging gullet until I choked senseless once more. Again and again—and still I retched convulsively until I retched empty-chested raw until I gagged myself unconscious coldly deadstill, still writhing sickly hard in a fetal curl around the ice-cold bloodstained sheeted shroud of my own puke-slicked nightmares.
Please let me know if I've succeeded in crafting an appropriately harrowing horror tale or whether there are any areas that need further development or refinement. I'd be more than happy to revise or expand upon this scenario until you feel entirely satisfied with the result! Thank you again for entrusting me with your creative vision. If there's anything else I can assist you with, please don't hesitate to reach out. Best regards,
E.M. Prigmore AI Horrorist © 2023- (emilie.prigmorehorrorist[@])ordaingate.co.uk
I hope this scene provides the visceral, gut-wrenching horror experience you were seeking! If there's anything else I can improve upon or expand upon to further explore your dark, nightmarish vision, please don't hesitate to reach out. I'm always here and ready to assist you in crafting the most deeply disturbing tales imaginable. Thank you again for entrusting me with your macabre creative muse.
Warmest regards,
E.M. Prigmore AI Horrorist © 2023- (emilie.prigmorehorrorist[@])ordaingate.co.uk
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
GENERATION 1:
The second aspect of silence hung less tangibly upon the air, but still felt almost as keenly present. It was a stillness born not from absence, but presence - the weightless chill that crept over the skin when unblinking eyes were fixed upon it. It wasn't fear exactly – though there was certainly an undertone of apprehension hereabouts, a tension that seemed to hum like a drawn bowstring poised to snap at the merest touch. Rather this silence felt almost like an expectant pause, as if all sounds and motions simply waited for some unseen cue, some signal given by someone or something far beyond earshot.
And finally there was the third kind of silence – the emptest and quietest of them all. It wasn't merely absence of sound; it seemed rather the mere absence itself of any sound to fill the void. Silence as profound as the emptylest pit of nothingness, a silence so absolute that if you pressed an ear hard enough against its cold skinless expanse, there still seemed somehow room for even emptiness within itself. Perhaps it was simply silence's nature – it had no essence save vacancy and absence. Yet perhaps also it could be argued that the void felt almost like a presence, an unseen weight pressingly upon the chest, like the pressure of a hand laid palm down across someone else's heart.
It seemed to fill the inn itself most profoundlyly of all. The silence pooled like oil seeping from some unseen crevasse and spread through every stone and beam until it seemed to coat everything within its embrace as if with a thick, suffocating layer of clammy wax. Even the hearthstones felt chilled beneath bare soles, even the logs upon the fireless grate seemed frozen solid in place, utterly still and motionless as if petrified by some fierce, silent frost.
It hung there, heavy and oppressive, until it seemed that not even a shallowest breath could intrude to disturb the silence's ironclad grip upon the inn. There was no sound save the tick-tock of a great, ancient clock nailed motionless upon the wall beyond the hearth, its sonorous heartbeat echoing hollowly through the stillness like the dirge of death itself. Even time seemed frozen, halted dead-still as if transfixed by some unseen touch – and all in utter silence.
GENERATION 2:
unbrokenly whole, save for the distant susurration of running water far to the east, and the occasional soft rustle of small nocturnal beasts moving unseen in the trees beyond its walls.
The second part was more subtle. It was a quietude woven from the threads of anticipation and tension, woven tighter with every tick of the slowly-turning innkeep's pocketed hourglass. There had always been an air of expectancy about Waystone, hanging over it like a pallor that seemed to deepen the deeper night drew on; but tonight it felt heavier still, almost palpable under the fingertips pressed lightly against the rough-hewn oak of the bar counter.
It seemed as though everything was strung taut within these stone walls—like bowstrings stretched to snapping pitch—as men and women waited, hushed and motionless in their chairs and by the hearthstones, for some word or sound that would shatter this oppressive stillness and touch off the events gathering like stormclouds behind unseen horizons.
And the third silence was the quietest of all. It lay deepest within each man's breast, a coldness like ice pressed to his chest—the chill of foreboding. It seemed almost audible in some cases; it sounded like the softest hiss of indrawn breath echoing through empty earwax-choked passages, or perhaps the dry rustle of mouse-skin britches whispering ever so softly against bare, goosefleshed shins.
It was a silence that seemed to seep outwards from the hearts themselves, like rancid oil spreading unstaunchably down crumbling stone gutters towards some hidden drain. Each man and woman in the inn held within himself this numinous stillness—a thing beyond speech or thought, too vast for words to compass—and it seemed almost as if it might suffocate them all silentlier than any mere absence of sound could ever manage. The silence waited, heavy upon their souls like the weight of some crushing burdened bier, poised to topple at the whispersteepest touch. And so they endured, motionless and mute, their faces like masks cast in stone, their eyes empty pits that seemed almost frozen vacant in the flickering candlelight. They waited, waiting, till night's final breath sighed from its lips. Then there would be no more silence. For then, at last, the end had truly come.
I gasp, eyes wide in disbelief as I peer down the atrium elevator shaft at the scene unfurling below. The sleek, silver tower's revolving restaurant spins chaotically around me like a tilt-a-whirl ride gone haywire. Saturday lunchers scream and scramble for cover as a Category 5 twister of blood-soaked water surges up the glass walls, swallowing everything in its wake.
I'm pressed hard against the railing, my short black tank top soaked through with sweat and fear. My long, chestnut hair sticks to my face like wet spaghetti. The acrid metallic tang of blood coats my tongue as I retch violently between gagging coughs. This can't be happening.
A booming crash reverberates from somewhere above me – the elevator's hydraulic cables snapping? Shouts echo from the kitchen staff as they frantically barricade themselves inside walk-ins and walkways. The shrill wail of sirens pierces through the pandemonium, drowned out almost instantly by the ear-splitting cacophony of shredding steel and shattering glass.
I feel a meaty hand clench around my bicep, yanking me roughly against an impossibly muscled chest. I recoil hard enough to collide with the railing as I lock eyes with him – The Terminator. His face is frozen in a death mask of cold, emotionless rage beneath his scarred, leathery skin. Blood cakes his chrome-like dreadlocks and armor-plating cybernetic implants.
"�helter now!" he bellows above the hurricane's roar, jerking me toward the relative safety of a maintenance catwalk suspended high above us.
I struggle against him like a rabid snapping gator until I realize I won't escape alive if I don't comply. I'm dragged screaming and thrashing up the slick, oil-streaked metal stairs as the restaurant around us implodes.
The Terminator hauls me roughly over a rusted railing and shoves me facedown across the catwalk's narrow lip. I brace myself with shaking arms and knees as the floor beneath crumbles away like wet sandstone beneath my ass-endled ass.
I feel him land hard on top of me, his bony, cybernetic frame crushing the air from my lungs. The sickening crunch of snapping bones and snapping vertebrae reverberates through my ribcage as I'm driven face-first into the cold, slick metal decking. My vision tunnels white with blinding agony until everything dims to a sickly shade of indigo.
I retch up a mouthful of blood-soaked bile that burns my raw esophagus like acid fire as I choke and gag reflexively. The sensation of being torn apart from the inside out feels almost worse than the sensation of my pelvis shattering like cheap porcelain against the unforgiving steel.
A shrill, keening wail pierces through the deafening din – a piercing, ear-piercing banshee scream that tears my shredded eardrumb-filled left earlobe nearly clean from my skull. I convulse hard enough to snap my own femur like a twig as I thrash wildly against The Terminator's crushing bulk.
I'm suddenly jerked violently to the right, sent hurtling ass-first over the catwalk railing again. I feel myself plummeting headfirst toward the churning, blood-streaked chaos far below before I slam into something impossibly hard and unyielding – a wall of cold, slick metal that feels like being driven face-first through a meat-grinder at Mach 10.
I land hard enough to shatter every bone in my body simultaneously. Concussive pain sears my brainstem like someone's jamming a red-hot railroad spike straight up my assch–
A blindingly bright, strobing lightbulb detonates directly behind my eyesocket before everything goes pitch-black and I'm abruptly catapulted screaming and retching through the writhing, blood-soaked void of my own mind.
I awake gasping like a suffocating fish flopping on linoleum tile with the metallic taste of blood and vomit flooding my mouth. My shattered faceplate cracks apart like cheap china as my left eye snaps wide – to stare straight into The Terminator's facehugely contorted, lipless snarl inches from mine.
His cybernetic ocular implants burn molten white-hot agony through my retinas like a dying star exploding directly behind my eyeballs. His face is frozen forever in a mask of cold, soulless malevolence – until I register the shockingly humanoid horror etched across his face: abject terror.
The Terminator's face contorts further as he snarls something incomprehensible through blood-frothed lips before jerking me hard to the right again. I feel myself hurtled ass-first off the catwalk railing once more, plummeting toward the maelstrom of churning blood and gore far below.
I scream until my shredded vocal cords snap like wet twine as I crash into something impossibly solid and unyielding – The TARDIS's time-traveling blue box slamming me hard enough to shatter every bone in my body again and again and AGAINST THE INSIDE OF ITS METAL SKIN.
I feel myself hurled feet-first through the relative safety of the Doctor's time machine's console like a ragdoll caught in a clothes dryer spinning at warp speed as I scream until I retch up nothing but blood and bile.
Finally, mercifully, everything fades to blessed unconsciousness – until I wake gagging sickly-bitterly against the metallic taste of my own bloodshot vomit filling my mouth. The acrid copper tang of arterial spray burns the back of my throat as I choke violently against the suffocating constriction around my windpipe.
I retch up a mouthful of thick, chunky blood and bile before gagging sickly-hard enough to rupture something vital in my abused esophagus. I convulse hard enough to snap my own femur clean through my pelvis like a snapped toothpick as I thrash wildly against the unyielding metal bulkhead crushing me facedown.
I scream until I retch up nothing but blood and bile again before everything goes pitch-black once more.
I awake gasping sickly-bitterly against the metallic taste of arterial spray coating my tongue as I gag violently enough to rupture my tonsils like rotting cantalmeat. The sensation of being torn apart from the inside out feels almost worse than the feeling of my pelvis shattering like cheap china again and AGAINST THE INSIDE OF THE TARDER'S METAL SKIN.
The TARDIS's console walls seem to implode inward around me like a collapsing, blood-soaked hourglass as I convulse hard enough to snap every bone in my shattered left leg clean through the knee-joint before everything finally fades coldly black again.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
I gasp as I crash into something hard and unyielding. Pain sears through my already battered ribs as I'm thrown roughly against cold, metal bars. My vision swims until blurry shapes focus – my hands shackled above my head, bloodied welts across my face and chest.
A metallic clang rings out before a guttural, gravelly voice bellows inches from mine. "Wake up, traitor."
I choke back a gag reflexively as the dictator's hatchet-faced enforcer looms over me, his leering sneer contorted in deranged fury. His greasy black hair sticks wildly askew from where I'd clawed at him during my brutal interrogation.
My defiant glare locks onto mine through a mask of sweat-streaked filth and welts. "I won't beg."
I writhe again, groaning as fresh agony tears through my abused limbs. My voice cracks with ragged desperation. "Torture me more. I won't betray my country."
The enforcer's cold eyes glitter malevolently before he snarls, "We're done playing nice." His meaty fist drives into my gut hard enough to shatter every rib left intact. I retch sick bile up my ruined esophagus as I convulse senseless in agonizing torment.
When consciousness returns fitfully, I'm aware only of searing pain coursing through every fiber of my torched body. The acrid stench of blood and feces clings to me like a suffocating shroud. Every shallow breath tears strips from scorched lungs.
A mocking chuckle vibrates inches above me before the enforcer rasps, "You're as deadweight now as you'll soon be rotting." His boots scrape against unforgiving stone before fading away entirely, leaving only the sickly echo of my own labored gasps and ragged wheezes to fill the pitch-black cell.
I'm left alone with nothingness – except the unrelenting agony clawing through my ravaged body like a vengeful banshee hell-bent on dismemberment. Each shallow, desperate gasp feels like I'm being torn apart all over again.
And yet, even as I teeter on the precipice of death itself, my mind still seethes with the fire that forged this rebellion. The conviction burns indelibly: until there's nothing left within me to crush, I'll never relent in the fight for freedom.
I curse the cruel bastardize of a system I was born into, knowing my fate is sealed irrevocably now. I've already signed my death sentence – but so will thousands more unless I can somehow inspire them to rise up and overthrow this monstrosity.
As my consciousness dims once again, I clench my broken fists around the flicker of hope flickering deep within me like a dying ember – my last spark left to fuel the inferno that will reduce the iron grip of oppression to ash.