Kangaroo Squall

Thus he seemed to shrink on the boards of the boat from the killing speed of the dark water

Photo by NIKOLAOS AXELIS on Unsplash

PROMPT: Pink horses galloped across the sea.

The kangaroo would never come. It was still standing on a rock in the river, looking about at what lay below and before it, before those perfect miles of little brown leaves;

the last row of lush, gloomy haus say and laus; to be sure, the day was sky blue; still a fine blue, in parts;

but over all, the sky, wending as it flew, across the bay where the High Sea met the shore, had turned into fur, had darkened into blood;

just as blue and dreadful as a herring boat, with its gaily pattering right ears,

its dimming green skirts waving nearly within the white beads of a sunset paper boat;

just as if one of those fellows here had said that it looked odd and a bit frightful to swim across a dark ocean through a sort of scabby looking swirling brush.

Thus he seemed to shrink on the boards of the boat from the killing speed of the dark water.

He was sure to die;

but he took courage in the hope that they would not hurt him too much, were they safe.


Editor’s Notes

Prompt came from Random Sentence Generator

Generation Process

I used a higher temperature of 1.1, and it gave me a consistent, yet strange poem output this time. I found this one a few days after I generated it. It came from the batch of runs I did to make “Attack on the Lighthouse” a few days ago, and I was reading it by chance, as I scanned through all my generated fiction samples to build a new fiction corpus of text for further fine-tuning and reinforcement.


Paragraph formatting added, no other text altered.

###### GPT-2 Settings
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  "include_prefix": false,
  "model_name": "1558M",
  "length": 300,
  "temperature": 1.1,
  "top_k": 80,
  "top_p": 0.9,
  "truncate": "<|endoftext|>",
  "nsamples": 12,
  "batch_size": 2,
  "prefix": "Pink horses galloped across the sea."