I read an old post of mine from 2019 that features an absurd dream that I had. You must first read the old post right now before continuing this post.
Old the Run with Trixie Belden Books
I decided to have a little fun, so I ran the post through AI twice. I first asked it to write a book. What AI gave is instead a short story, but it had a book title and chapter titles!
I then asked AI to expand the "book" with dialogue. I enjoyed seeing what it did with it. Since the version with dialogue is the better version, I placed it below first. I kept the first version and included it towards the end of the post.
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Title: "Trixie Belden and the Run for Survival"
Chapter 1: The Disappearing Books
I stood outside an apartment complex on a quiet Saturday morning, scanning the small collection of items sprawled across folding tables. There were all sorts of things: mismatched furniture, old VHS tapes, faded toys, and a scattering of books. But one stack caught my eye—just a few Nancy Drew matte picture covers and a lone Three Investigators hardcover titled The Talking Skull. A fleeting excitement coursed through me. I had to have those books.
“Excuse me, how much for the books?” I asked the seller, a grizzled man in a baseball cap who seemed more interested in organizing a box of chipped dishes than in selling anything.
“Five bucks for the lot,” he replied without looking up.
“I’ll be right back!” I called, already rushing away.
When I returned minutes later, my heart sank. The tables were empty. The books I had longed for—vanished.
“What happened to everything?” I asked a young woman standing nearby, hoping for an explanation.
“The seller’s been packing and unpacking all morning. Strange guy,” she said with a shrug. “Might still be around.”
Just as I turned, the seller reappeared, hauling the same books back onto the tables. It was a sign. I rushed forward, but just as I reached for The Talking Skull, another person—a wiry man in a black hoodie—snatched it from the table.
“Hey, I was about to grab that!” I protested.
The man didn’t even glance my way. “Finders, keepers,” he muttered, clutching the book like it was a bar of gold.
Frustrated, I stood there as the moment slipped away, wondering why these books had seemed so important and why I couldn’t get my hands on them.
Chapter 2: Escape to Dallas
By the time I reached Dallas, the books were the last thing on my mind. Instead, I focused on the fact that I was barefoot.
“You okay, miss?” a shopkeeper asked as I wandered past his fruit stand.
“Fine,” I replied quickly, avoiding eye contact. The concrete was rough beneath my feet, each step a sharp reminder that I had no shoes, no supplies, and certainly no plan. But something larger was at play.
A shadowy organization was after me, its reach far beyond anything I could comprehend. They were relentless, and they seemed to know my every move. The city buzzed with life all around me, but I was on the run—away from them, away from whatever awaited me.
I ducked into a store, desperate for cover. To my surprise, it was filled with books—but not the kind I expected. The walls were lined with cookbooks and self-help guides, a bizarre choice for a refuge.
“Looking for something?” a clerk asked, her tone more curious than suspicious.
“Just browsing,” I murmured, keeping my head down.
Deep inside, I didn’t know what I was searching for. But something told me to keep moving.
Chapter 3: The Trixie Belden Books
The people I found in the woods seemed ordinary enough. They lived in a cozy house with warm lights flickering from within, but there was an air of urgency that hung over everything.
“You’ve been discovered,” a woman whispered as she handed me a cup of water. Her voice trembled. “You don’t have much time.”
“Who are you?” I asked, but she ignored the question, glancing nervously at the door.
And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the people vanished. I was left alone in the quiet house, the sound of my breathing loud in the stillness. My eyes landed on a pile of books in the corner—two deluxe editions and two oval editions of Trixie Belden novels.
“Why these?” I muttered, picking them up. They felt heavier than they should, as though they held secrets I couldn’t yet understand.
Chapter 4: The Escape
With the books clutched tightly in my arms, I climbed out of a high window and into the chill evening air. The forest loomed ahead, dark and uninviting. My bare feet stumbled over roots and rocks as I made my way through the underbrush.
“They’re close,” I whispered to myself, the sound of my own voice strangely comforting.
A sudden light—bright and blinding—cut through the trees. I froze, heart pounding. The spotlight swung wildly, searching. The organization had found me.
“Go, go, go!” I muttered, pushing my legs to move faster. The books thudded against my chest with every step. As absurd as it seemed, I couldn’t let them go.
Chapter 5: The Pursuit
The spotlight swept closer, and panic surged through me. My thoughts raced. How had everything spiraled into this nightmare? Why had it mattered so much to take the books?
A voice crackled through the trees. “She’s heading east. Don’t lose her.”
I ducked behind a tree, struggling to catch my breath. My bare feet ached, and the weight of the books felt unbearable. Still, I clung to them like a lifeline.
Chapter 6: The Awakening
I woke with a start, the image of the woods still fresh in my mind. The dream had felt so real. For a moment, I thought I could still hear the rustle of leaves.
Sitting up, I looked around my small room. The Trixie Belden books were stacked neatly on my desk, untouched since the garage sale.
“What was that about?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. The dream had been vivid—too vivid. A world where books became treasures worth risking everything for.
I glanced at the books again. Maybe, in a way, they were a treasure. Not for their value, but for the comfort they brought. And in a chaotic world, maybe that was enough.
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Here is the first version created by AI.
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Title: "Trixie Belden and the Run for Survival"
Chapter 1: The Disappearing Books
I stood outside an apartment complex on a quiet Saturday morning, scanning the small collection of items sprawled across folding tables. There were all sorts of things: mismatched furniture, old VHS tapes, faded toys, and a scattering of books. But one stack caught my eye—just a few Nancy Drew matte picture covers and a lone Three Investigators hardcover titled The Talking Skull. A fleeting excitement coursed through me. I had to have those books.
But I didn't have any cash on me. With a quick glance at the seller, who seemed to be distracted with a box of old dishes, I hurried home to grab some money. The day was bright, and the air felt warm, but the urgency in my step made the world blur around me.
When I returned to the apartment complex, the tables were gone. The books I had longed for—vanished. My heart dropped. Perhaps the seller had packed up and left early? But no, as I scanned the area, a strange feeling crept over me—like I had missed something important.
Minutes later, the seller reappeared, hauling the same books back onto the tables. It was a sign. I rushed forward, but just as I reached for the Three Investigators book, another person snatched it from the table. They didn’t even look at me, oblivious to the fact that I was the one who had wanted those books all along.
Frustrated and confused, I stood there as the moment slipped away, wondering why these books had seemed so important, and why I couldn't get my hands on them.
Chapter 2: Escape to Dallas
By the time I was on the streets of Dallas, I had completely forgotten about the books. Instead, I focused on the fact that I was barefoot. The concrete was rough beneath my feet, each step a sharp reminder that I had no shoes, no supplies, and certainly no plan. But something larger was at play.
A shadowy organization was after me, its reach far beyond anything I could comprehend. They were relentless, and they seemed to know my every move. The city buzzed with life all around me, but I was on the run—away from them, away from whatever awaited me.
I didn’t have time to figure out why, but I found myself wandering toward a bookstore. No, not just any bookstore—an appliance store. Strange. Rows and rows of cooking and self-help books lined the walls, far removed from the type of mystery novels that had once occupied my thoughts. It was a surreal place to seek refuge in such a time. But I wasn’t looking for advice on personal growth or recipes. I was just running.
I didn’t understand it, but something deep within me—maybe fear or instinct—urged me to keep searching, keep moving.
Chapter 3: The Trixie Belden Books
The people I found were ordinary enough, or so they seemed. They lived in a house nestled in the deep woods, far from the city lights. The place was cozy, with warm lights flickering from within, but there was an air of urgency that hung over it.
“You’ve been discovered,” one of them whispered, her voice tense with fear. “You don’t have much time.”
And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished. Disappeared into thin air, like smoke in the night.
I was alone now, left with only the sound of my ragged breathing and the ticking of a clock in the corner. The urgency in their warning echoed in my ears, urging me to act fast.
In the corner of the room, two deluxe editions and two oval editions of Trixie Belden books sat in a pile. Without thinking, I grabbed them. There was no rational reason for it—no reason to prioritize books over supplies. I could have taken food, water, or medicine, but the Trixie Belden books were the only things that seemed to matter in that moment.
The microwave popcorn remained untouched on the counter. I wasn’t in the mood for it. And anyway, I wasn’t about to carry a microwave with me. I had to move.
Chapter 4: The Escape
I headed to the back of the house, my bare feet stumbling over the uneven ground. The forest loomed ahead, dark and ominous, as the night closed in. I found a staircase that led to a high window. It creaked open with a slight push, and I climbed out into the chill evening air.
The ladder attached to the side of the house seemed like the only way down. I scrambled down quickly, my heart racing as I landed on the soft ground beneath. The woods stretched before me, dark and thick with trees. The sound of the night enveloped me, but I couldn’t ignore the growing sense of dread.
Why hadn’t I found shoes? The thought popped into my mind unbidden. I couldn’t answer it, but I couldn’t waste time questioning it either. The woods were deep, and the ground beneath me felt like it could swallow me whole.
A sudden light—bright and blinding—cut through the trees, and I froze. A spotlight. The organization had found me. They were close.
With the Trixie Belden books clutched in my hands, I bolted, my bare feet slapping the dirt beneath me. The light swung wildly, casting erratic shadows around me. I ran through the woods, not looking back, knowing that if I stopped for even a moment, I would be caught.
Chapter 5: The Pursuit
As I ran, my thoughts swirled. How had everything spiraled into this nightmare? Why had it mattered so much to take the books? Why hadn’t I taken something more practical, something that could help me survive?
But there I was, running through the woods with nothing but four old books as my only possession, as though they were the key to something bigger than my own survival. Maybe they were. In a collapsing society where the rules no longer applied, survival meant more than just food and shelter—it meant holding onto whatever small joys, whatever fragments of the past, you could find.
And for me, in that strange, apocalyptic world, it was the Trixie Belden books. As absurd as it seemed, they were my anchor.
The spotlight swept closer, and I realized with a pang of dread that I was still barefoot. Poison ivy? Thorns? What if they were armed and I wasn’t fast enough?
I pushed those thoughts away. I couldn’t afford to stop now.
Chapter 6: The Awakening
I woke up with a jolt, heart pounding, the image of the woods still lingering in my mind. The dream had felt so real—so vivid. For a moment, I thought I could still hear the rustle of leaves beneath my feet.
But as the world around me settled back into reality, I realized something even stranger: The dream had been a blending of my obsession with books and a deeper, more pressing fear.
Was it possible that I had subconsciously created this apocalyptic scenario? A world where books—like the Trixie Belden novels—became treasures, worth risking everything to keep? What did that say about me? About how I valued things from the past, things I couldn’t let go of, even when my survival was at stake?
I didn’t know the answers. But I did know one thing: In my dream, I had stolen books from someone’s house. In a world falling apart, was it so wrong to prioritize something that had always brought me comfort? Even if it meant crossing lines I’d never normally cross?
Perhaps, in a broken world, we all had to make those choices. And for me, it was Trixie Belden.
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I found both versions interesting and hilarious.
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