Here is me taking a first run into StoryWeaver to see what the AI chat can do. It was fun to plug into so I'll share my story here.  

StoryWeaver Story from Jamie 

There is a young girl who has traveled a very long way to a distant mountain village. She knows that she will find “her people” there but is not sure what will be required of her before she can arrive there. Her name is Sil. It is spring.

Beneath her feet there is a slight rumbling sound and a small crater opens. It is filled with hot lava. She is afraid and unsure of what this means and how it may interfere with her path to the mountain and her people.

While she pauses, searching inside for answers, the crater widens. It opens wider and wider and wider and she is suddenly standing just on the edge of it. She begin to walk slowly around it's edge noting that even as she walks the opening grows wider and wider yet. It looks hot. And scary. And just a little bit exciting.

Everything in her want to stay safe. And everything in her wants to jump into that crater, to feel the heat and the burn and the reconstruction of it all. But instead she walks. She walks for ten years, and then another ten. Everytime the urge to jump in and be consumed overcomes her she walks with even more determination. A decade becomes two, then three, then even four. She knows she is aging, that time has not paused at her first moment of awareness but it seems the more she walk and the more time passes the harder it is for her to even consider the consequences of that leap intot the fired. It makes her feel sad, that her fear and her doubt and her lack of bravery have kept her from that lovely mountain place beyond and her people. She thinks she cannot bear to spend yet another decade or five walking this rim. Or worse, to just lay down when she can no longer walk and to end that way alone, without her people.

Suddenly she hears music, voices singing, harmoniums droning, drums beating. It is the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. It feels like it is calling her to come and it is coming from the mountain, from her people, an invitation, a waiting, a sigh and a sign that if not now, when? If not here, where? As she listens to the distant music, it quells the many voices in her head that have told her not to leap, not to burn too hotly, not too dream to big, not too reach too far. Those voices seem weak and measly now that she has heard such beautiful music. They cannot hurt her. They cannot disuade her. They cannot weaken her resolve. She wants to burn brighter, hotter, and make big flames leap and she wants it now. She steps off the edge and into the fire. Smoke rises and dances around her. They form women, so many other women dancing together in smokey images and those formless forms, so powerful, pull her straight out of the fire and up to the mountain. The only parts that got burned away were the parts of her robes and wrappings that no longer fit or belonged. They were gone.