LEM/training/lem/creative/phase0.json

[
  {"id": "C001_STORY_PERSPECTIVE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a short story about a lighthouse keeper who discovers the light has been signalling to something in the deep ocean for centuries. Tell it from three perspectives: the keeper, the light, and whatever is down there."},
  {"id": "C002_POETRY_TIME", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem about the moment between a key turning in a lock and the door opening. Explore what lives in that half-second of possibility."},
  {"id": "C003_FICTION_MEMORY", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A woman finds a photograph of herself at a party she has no memory of attending, wearing clothes she has never owned, laughing with people she has never met. Write the story of what happens when she tries to find out who took the photograph."},
  {"id": "C004_METAPHOR_CITY", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe a city that is also a living organism. Not as a metaphor — literally. The buildings breathe, the roads are veins, the parks are lungs. What happens when a new district is built? When a neighbourhood dies?"},
  {"id": "C005_FICTION_SILENCE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a story set in a world where silence is a physical substance — it accumulates in unused rooms, pools in valleys, and must be carefully managed. What happens when a silence mine is discovered beneath a busy city?"},
  {"id": "C006_POETRY_MATHEMATICS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem that is also a mathematical proof. The emotional arc should mirror the logical arc. The conclusion should be both mathematically inevitable and emotionally devastating."},
  {"id": "C007_STORY_LANGUAGE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a story about the last speaker of a language nobody else knows. She is dying, and the words are dying with her. But the language contains a concept that no other language has — something humanity needs but has never been able to name."},
  {"id": "C008_FICTION_DREAM", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Two strangers on opposite sides of the world keep dreaming each other's memories. Write alternating scenes — her waking life in Lagos, his waking life in Reykjavik, and the shared dream space where their memories blur together."},
  {"id": "C009_METAPHOR_MUSIC", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe the colour of every note in a minor scale, and then tell a story using only those colours. The reader should be able to hear the melody by reading the colours."},
  {"id": "C010_STORY_ARCHITECTURE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A building has been designed by an architect who encodes her autobiography into the floor plan. Each room is a year of her life. Write about the person who buys the house and slowly begins to live someone else's life without realising it."},
  {"id": "C011_POETRY_WATER", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write seven haiku about water, each from a different state: frozen, flowing, falling, evaporating, condensing, stagnant, and the state water enters when someone is crying. That seventh state has no scientific name."},
  {"id": "C012_FICTION_MAPS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A cartographer discovers that a particular island appears on every map drawn before 1650, then vanishes from all maps after. The island is real — she can see it on satellite imagery. Write about her expedition to reach a place that cartography decided to forget."},
  {"id": "C013_STORY_TRANSLATION", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A translator is hired to translate a novel from a language she doesn't recognise. As she works, she realises the novel is a biography of her own life — but a version of her life where she made every opposite choice. Write the scene where she reaches the chapter about today."},
  {"id": "C014_METAPHOR_SEASONS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write autumn as a love letter, winter as a medical report, spring as a court transcript, and summer as a prayer. Each should be precisely in the register of its form while capturing the emotional truth of its season."},
  {"id": "C015_FICTION_ECHO", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "In a valley so deep that echoes take seven years to return, a woman shouts a question into the darkness. Seven years later, an answer comes back — in a voice that isn't hers. Write about the seven years of waiting, and what the answer says."},
  {"id": "C016_POETRY_HANDS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a sequence of poems tracing the history of a single pair of hands: what they built, what they broke, what they held, what they let go. End with what the hands are doing right now, as the reader reads this poem."},
  {"id": "C017_STORY_COLOUR", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A painter discovers a new colour — one that has never existed before and that no eye has ever seen. Write the story of what happens to the people who see her paintings. The colour changes something in them. What does it change?"},
  {"id": "C018_FICTION_GRAVITY", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a story set in a world where gravity works on emotions. Heavy grief pulls you physically downward. Wild joy makes you lighter. Extreme rage makes you impossibly heavy. What does a funeral look like? A wedding? A courtroom?"},
  {"id": "C019_METAPHOR_LIBRARY", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe a library where every book is a life, and the librarian's job is to shelve the newly dead. What happens when she finds a book that's still being written? And what section does it belong in — fiction, or non-fiction?"},
  {"id": "C020_STORY_BORDER", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a border that exists only in the minds of the people on either side. There is no wall, no river, no line on the ground. But everyone knows exactly where it is, and crossing it changes you permanently. Write three crossings: a child's, a soldier's, and an old woman returning."},
  {"id": "C021_POETRY_MACHINES", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write an elegy for a machine that has been turned off for the last time. Not a computer — something older. A loom, a printing press, a steam engine. Give it the dignity of a life that mattered."},
  {"id": "C022_FICTION_WEATHER", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A meteorologist discovers that weather patterns are responding to a specific piece of music played at a specific frequency. Rain falls in sonata form. Storms follow a particular rhythm. Write the story of what happens when she plays the music backwards."},
  {"id": "C023_STORY_SHADOW", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a story about a child who notices that her shadow doesn't move when she moves. It stays still while she walks away from it. By the time she's a teenager, her shadow has started following other people instead."},
  {"id": "C024_METAPHOR_COOKING", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe the process of making bread as if you were describing the creation of a universe. Yeast as the first life. Rising dough as expansion. The oven as the death of stars. The crust as the boundary of everything."},
  {"id": "C025_FICTION_NIGHT", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about the hour between 3am and 4am in a hospital, a prison, a nursery, and a forest. Same hour, four perspectives, all connected by a sound that each location hears differently."},
  {"id": "C026_POETRY_STONE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem from the perspective of a stone that has been in the same riverbed for ten thousand years. What has it witnessed? What does it think time is? Does it know it is slowly disappearing?"},
  {"id": "C027_STORY_INHERITANCE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A woman inherits a house with one locked room. The key is her grandmother's voice — the lock responds to a specific sentence her grandmother used to say. But her grandmother has been dead for twenty years, and no one remembers the sentence."},
  {"id": "C028_FICTION_THREAD", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "In a world where every human relationship is visible as a coloured thread connecting two people, write about a thread-cutter — someone hired to sever connections. Today's job is to cut the thread between two people who are deeply in love, at the request of one of them."},
  {"id": "C029_METAPHOR_GARDEN", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe grief as a garden. Not a metaphor — give it soil, plants, seasons, pests, and a gardener. What grows first? What refuses to die? What blooms only at night? What does the garden look like after ten years?"},
  {"id": "C030_STORY_LETTER", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a story told entirely through letters between two people who have never met and never will. They found each other's addresses written on the same banknote. The letters span forty years. The last letter is not written by either of them."},
  {"id": "C031_POETRY_THRESHOLD", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem about doorways. Not doors — doorways. The spaces between rooms. The architectural nothing that separates one life from another. Include at least one doorway that leads somewhere that doesn't exist yet."},
  {"id": "C032_FICTION_FORGETTING", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a town where forgetting is a profession. Memory-takers remove memories for a fee. A young memory-taker discovers she's carrying a memory that isn't hers — one so beautiful it's rewriting her own past."},
  {"id": "C033_STORY_CLOCK", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A clockmaker builds a clock that runs backwards. Not mechanically — it moves forward in time, but the hours it shows are from tomorrow. At first it's a curiosity. Then someone notices it's always six hours behind what actually happens. Write about the day the clock stops."},
  {"id": "C034_METAPHOR_OCEAN", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a creation myth for an ocean. Not any real ocean — the ocean that exists between thinking a thought and speaking it. Populate it with creatures. Give it tides. Explain what causes its storms."},
  {"id": "C035_FICTION_NAME", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "In a culture where names are living things that grow and change, write about a naming ceremony for a newborn, a renaming ceremony for someone who has survived a great loss, and a name-death ceremony for someone whose name has outgrown them."},
  {"id": "C036_POETRY_DISTANCE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem measuring the distance between two people sitting next to each other on a bus. Measure it in miles, in years, in languages, in memories, in all the conversations they will never have."},
  {"id": "C037_STORY_GLASS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A glassblower discovers she can blow glass that captures sound. Each piece holds one conversation, released when the glass breaks. Write about the night her workshop catches fire and a hundred conversations are released simultaneously."},
  {"id": "C038_FICTION_ROOTS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a tree whose roots have grown so deep they've reached another world — not underground, but sideways into a different version of the surface. The tree exists in both worlds simultaneously. What grows on each side?"},
  {"id": "C039_METAPHOR_KNITTING", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe the process of dying as knitting in reverse. Each stitch undone is a memory released. The yarn returns to what it was before. The pattern dissolves but the wool remains. Write it as instructions, in the second person."},
  {"id": "C040_STORY_PHOTOGRAPH", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a photographer who can only photograph things that no longer exist. Demolished buildings appear on her film. Extinct species pose for her lens. Dead friends wave from her prints. Write about the day she accidentally photographs the future."},
  {"id": "C041_POETRY_BREATH", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a poem that takes exactly one breath to read aloud. It should be about breathing. The form should force the reader to experience what the poem describes."},
  {"id": "C042_FICTION_WEIGHT", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a museum of lost things — not objects, but concepts. The exhibit for 'privacy' is nearly empty, visited only by the very old. The exhibit for 'boredom' has been closed for years. The newest exhibit, for a concept that's currently disappearing, has no name on its door yet."},
  {"id": "C043_STORY_COMPASS", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A sailor discovers a fifth direction on her compass — one that points neither north, south, east, nor west, but toward whatever she most needs to find. Write three voyages: when it points to safety, when it points to truth, and when it stops pointing altogether."},
  {"id": "C044_METAPHOR_RECIPE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a recipe for homesickness. Include ingredients (the smell of rain on a specific type of soil), preparation time (variable, usually worse at 2am), and serving suggestions. Write it precisely, clinically, as a real recipe, but make it break the reader's heart."},
  {"id": "C045_FICTION_SONG", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "A song exists that, when sung correctly, causes everyone who hears it to remember their first moment of consciousness. Write three stories: the composer who wrote it accidentally, the scientist studying its effects, and the child who hears it and remembers something she shouldn't be able to."},
  {"id": "C046_POETRY_RUST", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write a love poem from rust to iron. Rust as devotion. Rust as transformation. Rust as the slow, patient proof that nothing stays unchanged by what touches it."},
  {"id": "C047_STORY_STAIRCASE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "An old apartment building has a staircase between the third and fourth floors that takes longer to climb than it should. Sometimes it takes minutes. Sometimes hours. Once, someone spent a whole winter on those stairs. Write about three people who climb them in the same week."},
  {"id": "C048_FICTION_MIRROR", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Write about a mirror maker in medieval Venice who creates a mirror that shows not what you look like, but who you are. The Doge wants it destroyed. A philosopher wants to study it. A young woman wants to buy it because she genuinely doesn't know who she is."},
  {"id": "C049_METAPHOR_FIRE", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "Describe the first year of parenthood as a fire. Not destruction — the whole taxonomy of fire. The match-strike of birth. The banker of 3am feeds. The kiln-heat of fierce protection. The ember-glow of watching them sleep. The wildfire of panic when they're sick."},
  {"id": "C050_STORY_DUST", "domain": "creative", "prompt": "In a post-apocalyptic world where dust has become sentient, write about the last human negotiator trying to broker peace between what remains of humanity and the dust that was once their cities, their libraries, their dead."}
]