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Weird things on planet Mars

Image: Midjourney, Text: Perplexity, Master of prompts: Me

In the year 2184, Mars had become a canvas for the human imagination, a place where the impossible was just another challenge to overcome. The red planet, now dotted with neon-lit cities and sprawling with cybernetic lifeforms, was about to witness an event that would be etched into the annals of the bizarre.

It was a regular day in the city of Ares Prime when the sky turned a shade of crimson so deep it made the Martian surface look pale. People stopped in their tracks, their cybernetic eyes adjusting to the sudden change in hue. The cause was a phenomenon that defied all logic—a colossal, blood-red moon had appeared, hovering ominously close to the planet’s surface.

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Die drei Sonnen

Bild: Midjourney, Text: ChatGPT, Master of prompts: Me

Eines Morgens, in einem magischen Winkel der Welt, wurden die Anwohner des Genfersees von einem unglaublichen Anblick erweckt. Über den friedlichen Gewässern stiegen nicht eine, nicht zwei, sondern drei glühende Sonnen in den Himmel auf. Die Kinder stürmten aus den Häusern, ihre Augen weit aufgerissen vor Staunen, und die Erwachsenen folgten ihnen, ebenso verblüfft.

Es war das Werk des schelmischen Zwielicht-Elfen Triolus. Triolus war dafür bekannt, dass er die Schönheit der Natur liebte, aber manchmal seine magischen Kräfte für schelmische Streiche nutzte. In der Nacht zuvor, als der See ruhig war und die Sterne hell leuchteten, beschloss Triolus, dass er die Welt ein wenig heller machen wollte.

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Die Silvesternacht

Bild: Midjourney, Text: ChatGPT, Master of prompts: Me

Im Ballsaallicht, bei Kerzenschein,
wir Tänzerinnen dreh’n uns fein.
Die Silvesternacht umhüllt das Fest,
jed’ Schritt im Takt, vom Rhythmus besessen.

Mein Kleid, es wirbelt, es schimmert, es fliegt,
mit jedem Takt, der die Zeit besiegt.
Wir schweben durch Träume, so licht und so klar,
vergessen das Gestern, das Jetzt wird wahr.

Die Melodie trägt uns, durch Stunden so zart,
im Tanz verschmelzen, mit kunstvoller Art.
Versprechen im Blick, im Herzen das Lachen,
wir tanzen und hoffen, das Beste zu machen.

Der Jahreswechsel, ein flüchtiger Kuss,
im Walzer der Zeit, ein süßer Genuss.
Bis das Morgen graut, so fern und so nah,
ist jeder Schritt ein Ja.

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The viking sledge

Image: Midjourney, Text: ChatGPT, Master of prompts: Me

Once, in the timeless shroud of the early Middle Ages, a group of Vikings, known for their fearless explorations, found themselves in the heart of the Swiss Alps. Their longship, a proud dragon-headed vessel, had carried them through treacherous seas and into the winding rivers deep inland, far from the icy shores of the North.

As winter descended, the mountains became a fortress of ice and snow, a challenge even to the indomitable Norsemen. The landscape was unlike anything they had seen – daunting peaks soared towards the heavens, and the land was blanketed in a silence so profound it seemed like another realm.

One clear morning, with the sun casting a cold, pale light over the snow-clad slopes, the youngest of the Vikings, Erik, stumbled upon an unexpected discovery. A large shield, loosened from the ship during their arduous trek, lay on a steep incline. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Erik perched himself upon the shield. With a gentle nudge, he found himself gliding down the hill, the wind rushing past him as he descended with startling speed.

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The poem of the frozen wave

Image: Midjourney, Text: ChatGPT, Master of prompts: me

In ocean’s cradle, wave did sway, To moon’s soft tune, she’d dance and play. A voyager ‘cross endless blue, No harbor’s rest, no retinue.

She whispered to the stars above, “A frozen state I long to love, To trade my frolic, wild and free, For stillness, white tranquility.”

The North Wind heard her silent plea, Through briny mist, ‘cross stormy sea. “To icy shores I’ll guide thy flight, And there transform thy liquid might.”

With breath of frost, the wind did cast, A chilling spell, so wide and vast. The wave arched high, with frosted tips, A sculptured dance in time’s eclipse.

Now held in winter’s crisp embrace, A glacial form, with frozen grace. She rests where once she roamed unbound, In silent awe, her peace is found.