Why play with AI for the cover image when you could use it to write the whole story? I asked ChatGPT to write a competition entry, giving it almost identical instructions to the last competition.
The French name Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday … Mardi Gras is your theme. What does it make you think of, adventurous times, party after party, scary masks, and what lies beneath? Please write a story in under 1000 words.
It came up with this, which is pretty scary:
The streets were alive with color and energy. The air was thick with the sound of music, laughter, and the occasional scream from a brave soul on a daring ride. It was Mardi Gras, and everyone was letting loose.
As the parade marched down the main street, I found myself swept up in the crowd. People were dancing, throwing beads, and shouting at the top of their lungs. I had never seen anything like it before. It was like the entire city had come alive.
I weaved my way through the crowd, admiring the intricate masks and costumes on display. There were feathers, sequins, and glitter everywhere. It was as if the entire city had been sprinkled with fairy dust.
But as the night went on, I started to notice something beneath the surface. Behind the masks and the costumes, there were real people with real problems. Some were escaping heartbreak, others were running from their responsibilities, and some were just looking for a good time.
I saw a woman in a purple and gold dress, her face obscured by a mask of feathers, crying on the side of the road. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, and she was absolutely stunning. But something about her sadness tugged at my heartstrings.
I approached her cautiously, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. She looked up as I drew closer, and I could see the tears streaming down her face.
"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder.
She shrugged me off, pulling away from my touch. "I'm fine," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
I could tell she was lying. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly.
She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. Then she shook her head and looked away.
"I don't even know you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I took a step back, giving her some space. "That's true. But sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than to someone you know."
She looked at me again, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Maybe you're right," she said.
We sat on the side of the road, surrounded by revelers and the sound of music. She told me about her breakup, about how she thought she had found the one and then he had broken her heart. She talked about how lost she felt, how unsure of herself.
As she spoke, I could see the weight lifting from her shoulders. By the time she was finished, she was smiling again.
"Thank you," she said, hugging me tightly. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
I hugged her back, feeling grateful for the unexpected connection. It was then that I realized that Mardi Gras wasn't just about the parties and the parades. It was about connection, about being there for each other in our most vulnerable moments.
As the night wore on, I lost track of her in the crowd. But I knew that I would never forget the woman in the purple and gold dress, and the unexpected friendship we had forged on that magical night.