Using Ghost's song titles to make stories with an AI story generator

Amygdala's Ragdoll (again)

So this time I'll be doing it the same way I did the past few chapters, I'll put the title in, then the first line, the second, third, chorus and other parts that come after.

I have not updated this since Valentine's Day, and its been a week since then. I used to update this every day-

So let's get to it!

Title: Amygdala's rag doll was always a little bit different from the other dolls in her toy box. She was a bit bigger, and her clothes were made of cloth that was often yellow and stained withroot beer and spilled Pop rocks. But to Amygdala, that just made her doll more special.

She loved to play with her rag doll all by herself in her bedroom. She would take out her old paintbrush and dab at the dirt brown stains on the doll's dress, making them look like rivers of ink running down its soft fabric. Then she'd set the doll up in front of her mirror so she could admire it from every angle.

But Amygdala never cared about how pretty or ugly her rag doll looked to anyone else. She loved playing with it because it felt like she really had a friend inside of it, even though it wasn't alive. And that was something very special to Amygdala.

First Line (I hide, I hide in iodine words): I am small and insignificant. I can't protect you. No matter how hard I try, you're always going to be in danger. But that doesn't mean that I have to sit back and let you be captured by the darkness. I will run to where you are, even if it means hiding in the iodine words that wrap around your heart like a protective cocoon.

Second Line (It's something inexplicable, it's something unaccountable.): It was the middle of the night, and a dark figure was lurking in the shadows outside the window of a cabin. It had been watching the occupants for days, patiently waiting for just the right moment to make its move. Finally, it had decided that this was its chance.

As soon as they were asleep, it crept up to the window and snuck inside. The occupants were defenceless - they were sleeping soundly in their beds while their guards were down. Noticing that one of them was pregnant, the dark figure took advantage of her vulnerability and subconciously inserted a needle into her back while she slept.

In moments, she was whne she knew nothing else but wide open blueness before passing out from an overdose of synthetic drugs - something inexplicable and unaccountable had happened.

Third Line: (I cry, I cry, when anything hurts.) The pain was exquisite and overwhelming, like a knife twisting in my chest. It sliced through me, wounding me deep inside. I cried out, the tears streaming down my face as the agony took hold. It wouldn't let me go, no matter how much I tried to fight it. It stayed with me always, lingering like a ghost just beyond my reach.

Fourth Line (Vexatious, my amygdala that I can't do a thing about.): Vexatious is my amygdala that I can't do a thing about. She's constantly stirring up trouble and making me feel stress, anxiety, and dread in all aspects of my life. I've tried to ignore her, but she always manages to find a way to get under my skin. I don't know what to do about her; she's become one of the most constant sources of stress in my life.

Fifth Line (The tricks and trivials of every twenty-four.): Jenna has always been good with numbers. She loves to crunch them, figure out how everything works, and get a precise understanding of how the world works. Even at twenty-four years old, Jenna is able to effortlessly calculate pi to over seventeen thousand digits, can spruce up an Excel spreadsheet like no one's business, and her math skills span far beyond a high school diploma.

So when Jenna is approached about joining a secret society bent on taking down the capitalists who have ruined the world, she jumps at the chance. The society foundation promises Jenna access to exclusive information that few people even know exists; information that could finally bring justice to all of mankind.