I’ve been using Chat GPT to help me create my fantasy world. I’ve intructed it to give me prompts so I can work through some things. This prompt has taken me months to do. Nothing ever felt right and I’m still not sure if I nailed it.

The Prompt

Day 3 Prompt (Built From Your Work)

You’re ready for a deeper cut now.

Who in New Eden has learned how to “game” the rules—and what terrible price did they pay for thinking they understood the system better than it understands them?

Explore:

• Who they are (hunter, priest, pirate, outsider, etc.)
• What pattern they think they’ve cracked
• A moment where it works (important—make us believe them)
• The exact moment New Eden proves them wrong
• What they lose (not just death—identity, memory, humanity, faith, etc.)

Free Write Start

Nestor Gahan had it all figured out. He just needed to stay out of the woods. Nothing could get him to leave his little log cabin in New Eden. As one of the sheep farmers, he had them locked up in a barn; four walls, a roof, and a locked double door.

Nestor had even fenced his claim in chicken wire, completely around his house, barn, and garden. Even though he wasn’t as close to the woods as some farmers (something he petitioned for when he became a part of New Eden), the stories he’d heard from others as he moved in, including those in queue who had experienced awful things like haints, black-eyed children, and not-deer.

Nope.

Nestor studied well and it seemed that anything that wanted to get you was in the woods. All the rules pointed to it. As long as he kept to the city of New Haven and his home, and had nothing to do with anything else, he’d be safe.

It was evening when he heard something.

It sounded far away, almost like it was coming from the edge of the tree.

“Hey! Come here!”

Nestor pulled out his .45. He always kept it on him.

The chicken wire outlined his perimeter. He could see fine from his porch with the lanterns he’d perched down the property lines. And all the bells would alert him and his neighbors if something was there.

Of course nothing was there. That he could see, anyway.

Nestor shuddered a bit as he continued to hear the voice. A male voice, possibly. It was like a whisper. Hoarse. Low.

He ignored it. That was also in the rules.

‘If you hear a voice, no you didn’t’

All the same, he fiddled with his weapon, giving it a shine with a rag he had on his lap.

Then all the sudden his sheep started bleating, loud and shaking the barn. There was no way anything got through the wire. He’d of heard it. The chicken wire lay silent as tombstones.

He gulped and stood up, handling his .45 he started to the barn doors.

There were no windows on the building, just narrow, tight slanted slots for ventilation.

The only way in was the door.

It was perfectly intact. Did he risk it?

His hand shook as he considered the ramifications. Suppose something had gotten int there. During the day the doors were wide open, but once again something would have to get past the chicken wire.

He’d been to preaching every Sunday. Could something have gotten in when he was away?

Not to mention meeting the fellas for a drink in the New Haven Pub from time to time.

He dropped the keys. As he stooped down to grab them, he heard it again right next to his ear.

“Hey! Come here!”

He fell over on top of his keys, scooped them up, and pushed his 140lbs up and running to the house.

The door was open.

He reached for his holster. His gun!

He looked towards the barn. There was nothing there. Nothing.

“Hey! Come here!”

Each word was louder and more anunciated than before. Nestor, fell backwards off his porch and scooted himself away from the door.

“Shit! Shit!”

His body went limp. Shivers of fear swept through his body as he pushed himself up over and over after stumbling several times.

His hand still gripped the keys and he bolted straight for the barn unlocking it and opening the double doors, but as they swung open, he gasped.

Each sheep was standing up right and staring at him, their heads tilting with every movement he made.

Within he heard more voice soft and loud, “Hey! Come here!”

Over and over. Children’s voices. Women’s voices. Men’s voices. Almost a separate voice of each of his 20 sheep.

He stepped back and tripped over his gun. He grabbed it and ran back to the house and shut the door, locking it.

Panting, he slid down the door, gripping his gun tight to his chest, his heart thumping in his ears so loud.

Then on the other side of the door, he heard scratching of hooves, all around the house. Hooves scratching the walls and a mob of voices all around him.

“Hey! Come here!”

Repeatedly till morning.

Nestor didn’t wake up.

Free Write End

I may post Days 1 and 2 at some point, but I think they are very similar to what I have here. ChatGPT was really pushing me to figure out the underlying laws of my world and I wasn’t quite getting it. I’m still not sure I get it, but I look forward to figuring this out.

It’s fun to create a world!