Trevor Collins

Nothing happened.

There wasn't a monster down there, but it was still a creepy experience that I vividly remember 20 years later.

Just a coincidence, I told myself, taking a long sip of wine.

I've generated like 50 stories at this point.

There are bound to be some weird coincidences.

But still, ChatGPT seemed to always go the vague route.

Why would it say rainbow ball?

That seemed like an oddly specific detail.

I shook my head and entered the next prompt.

Write a horror story about someone who sees something terrifying in their ring camera.

Johnny installed a ring camera for his own safety and security.

One night when he was woken up at 3.24 a.m.

by a notification on his phone, he opened the camera feed and he saw an old woman in a white dress standing in his front yard next to the old well.

I had an old well in my front yard.

One of those little stone ones with the peaked roof.

The house was old, and it had been there when I bought it, even though the well itself was filled long ago.

I continue reading, but no other details match my house.

I let out a sigh of relief, then entered the next prompt.

Write a horror story about a woman who is visited by a vengeful spirit.

But the words ChatGPT spit out made my blood run cold.