Happy Creepy New Year’s Eve
Bard AI waves goodbye to the old year.
Ready to ring out 2023? Me, too.
Let’s see what 2024 has in store for us.
I asked Bard AI for a 200-word, suspenseful short story about New Year’s Eve.
Wow, did he deliver! 😨
I gave the story a few tweaks, and here it is.
Let’s gather around the crackling fireplace and listen to Bard’s strange, spine-tingling tale.
The rusted wind chimes on the porch sang a discordant symphony as the last ragged breath of December wheezed out. The Old Prospector sat hunched in his rocking chair, the porch light casting long shadows against the twilight sky.
Year’s Eve. A night for drunken revelry, misplaced hope, and the gnawing hunger for what might have been.
The whiskey burned a path down the Old Prospector’s throat like molten regret. He won the fabled El Gato gold mine in a poker game...and then accidentally destroyed the map in a campfire. The legendary treasure would remain lost forever.
The news droned on about champagne toasts and fireworks, a world away from his cobwebbed cabin.
A sudden, unnatural gust rattled the windows. The wind chimes shrieked.
He set down his glass, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The storm outside was the Swamp Hag’s calling card.
She lived in the marsh at the back of his property, a tangle of reeds and secrets where moonlight dared not tread.
The townspeople said she was just a harmless 95-year-old woman who talked with frogs.
The Old Prospector knew better. He’d seen the glint of malice in her eyes.
The wind rose to a banshee’s wail, and through the warped glass, he saw a flicker of movement in the darkness beyond the trees.
A shadowy figure, clothed in rags, approached.
The knob rattled, then the ancient door burst open with a splintering crash.
The Swamp Hag stood framed in the doorway, her eyes twin coals of malevolent fire.
“Happy New Year,” she rasped, her voice like dry leaves scuttling across a grave.
The shadows on the walls writhed, taking on monstrous shapes.
As the clock struck midnight, the world outside dissolved into a maelstrom of howling wind and shrieking shadows.
And the Old Prospector, alone in his cabin at the end of the road, faced the reckoning he’d spent a lifetime trying to outrun.
Happy New Year, everyone! Thanks for reading and commenting! 😁
